Northern Queen Rising
by LadySerenade
Summary: Sansa agrees to go with Sandor Clegane on the night of the Battle of the Blackwater, though she fears it was foolish. Follow her journey as she flees King's Landing and gathers her strength to eventually become Queen in the North. New alliances will be formed, losses will be had, and love will be found in the unlikeliest of Princes. (Pairings SansaXSandor, SansaXOberyn)
1. Intro: Blood and Death

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything about game of thrones, I just write fanfiction about it. **

**Author's Note: WELCOME TO ANOTHER NEW STORY OF MINE! I have to admit I am one of those people that have not read all the books, I am remedying that currently, but am only coming to the end of the first one. So all my information is a combination of obsessively watching the show, and my tumblring and extensive research on wiki pages. So bear with me if I misspell some things occasionally, or forget to add in characters that were in the book series or something. I hope it's still on point because this story is screaming inside my head and begging me to write it. The story will start out with Sansa fleeing King's landing and follow her through a pretty epic journey! Read the tags for the pairings that will happen and enjoy my foul language and the eventual smut that will ensue. If you're reading this I probably love you!**

* * *

_**Intro: Blood and Death**_

Blood was the only thing Sansa could think of. _Blood. Blood. Blood!_ Every beat of her heart seemed to be whispering the words painfully in her mind. The Queen knew, and she had no doubt Joffrey would know within the hour, if he didn't already. Now, more than ever, she knew she had to escape. She tried to call to mind anyone in the capitol that had ever showed her kindness, that had ever tried to help her. The list was pathetic. She could count them on one hand. The Hound, Littlefinger, and Shae. It wasn't enough, and none of them were her first choice to help her make a deadly move. For her to escape the capitol would be life or death, she knew that, and anyone who helped her would be more tainted than she.

Sansa weighed it against her other option, and knew it wasn't a choice at all. Stay here and bear Joffrey's children and lifelong hate and abuse, or run. It didn't matter, she realized, where she ran. The further the better. Her heart ached for home, but she long ago abandoned any hope of ever seeing it again. Maybe she could sail away, live any place else where the war of the five kings wasn't, and wait patiently for a victory on any side. But how long would she be gone? Would she ever see another Stark if she left Westeros? The choices and severity of it all gave her such a hopeless feeling, she felt like she couldn't breathe. Then the old dead voice of her naivety told her she would be better off staying, and it cemented the fact that she needed to leave. Everything her older self did lead her to this distruction she was caught in now. If Sansa knew anything at all, it was that she knew nothing, and couldn't always trust her better judgment. She would leave, or she would die trying.

When she got close enough to her room she found just one of her so called allies waiting by the door, and she could say she was not very enticed to see him. It was he who told the Queen and Sansa knew it. He showed her kindness once, saved her from the mob, but she had no fool notions that he was truly kind. She knew the exact opposite to be true. When she was close enough her escort left her, thinking she was safe from fleeing in Clegane's company.

"The Prince asks for your company," He told her simply.

Sansa had ten million things she wanted to say back, ten million insults left burning on her tongue. But she did as she always had, nodded her head in silence, and walked next to the hulking figure of the Hound to go to her certain torment. Every seam of her body begged for some release, some small act of kindness, but knew there would be none. She couldn't help the tears that cascaded down her cheeks, and she wasn't quick enough to wipe them away before Clegane saw them and sneered.

"Tears won't help you now m'Lady," He told her without looking at her a second time.

"Nothing will help me, and they are the only thing that's mine," She said in a cool monotone, never even thinking about gracing him with a look.

"You think tears are the only thing in your arsenal?" He asked her, and she was put off enough to look him in the eye and stop right there in the hall. It actually seemed he was attempting to make a conversation with her, so she would grant him that, if only because she hated him so much, and there was nothing more she could do now to harm her. She was a wolf in the lion's den, every step she took was met with gnashing teeth.

"You didn't have to tell them!" She said, her voice rising and the words spilling on their own accord. "You sentenced me to certain death, by Joffrey's hand or my own I cannot say yet."

She regretted saying it instantly, but something about the Hound's demeanor changed. The slightest shift in his eyes that she couldn't quite figure out. Was he more angry now? Would he warn Joffrey that she thought of taking her own life? She shouldn't have said anything, it was foolish, and she already knew she couldn't trust this man. The silence stretched on, neither of them moved, and the hallway where they stood seemed to have a crushing effect. Sansa suddenly felt her heart pounding much too fast, her face flushing, she was starting to panic. The moment passed however.

"It won't come to that little bird," He said, and started leading the way to Joffrey once more. They said nothing else, it was almost as if it never happened at all.

* * *

Agonizing time had passed before Sansa came to know what the Hound had meant that day in the hall. She had planned so many different ways to escape, but had never had the courage to act. More and more terror filled her each day, as she came to the conclusion that there was no escaping marriage to Joffrey. She started to picture her horrible mad children with their golden hair, and her life as she slowly faded away to nothing. She thought there would never be another way. Then he came to her, drunk in the middle of the night, telling her to come with him. But where would they go? Could she even go with a man that could so easily be just as much of a nightmare as staying here?

That wasn't true, she thought. He wasn't a worse fate than here. He could do unspeakable things true, perhaps take her virtue on the road, but it still seemed a brighter future than being wed to the boy king. Joffrey would erase all she was, till she was nothing more than one of them, but never good enough to be a true Lannister. She didn't want to go with Sandor Clegane, but staying was death or worse and she knew that. So she said yes, though she had no hope of making it out of the city alive.

"Where will we go?" She asked as he pulled her roughly into the hall, pulling the hood of his cloak over her face in a jerking motion. He said nothing at first, only escorted her along, holding tightly to her arm, possessively. She wasn't sure what was going through his mind, but something told her he was glad she had said yes. She might be nearly scared witless, but what other way was there to be? She thought of her mother, and tried to summon some of her strength, some of her resolve.

"North, north, the King in the North," He chanted softly, not really answering her question but giving her just enough hope to hurry her feet to keep up with his pace. Could it be true? Would he take her to see Robb? It was something she had dreamed of often, and tonight had just enough madness in her to believe it could be true. She said nothing more, and let him lead her through the castle.

People were running about, she could hear shouts and damage being done inside the castle. Surely Stannis' men hadn't already breeched the walls. The thought gave her dread, till she saw Lannister banner men wondering about in drunken stupors, some with blood from the battle, some with armor yet clean and polished. With the Queen and Ladies of the castle tucked away, it seemed a bit of anarchy was ensuing. She tucked herself in closer to Sandor's side, and she couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard him sigh slightly. Perhaps it was more of a satisfied grunt.

"Just keep moving, don't stop no matter what. Let me take care of whatever comes at us," He told her quickly, taking a sharp turn. She heard a couple of shouts at him, people asking why he wasn't out in the fight. Sansa wanted to know this too, what made the Hound finally abandon Joffrey, but right now there were more important things at stake. She wanted to ask him so many things, but now all she could do was trust him, which was no small feat to accomplish.

"Oiy, Clegane? Who you making off wiv there?" A man called to him, some four feet away. There were two other guards with him, staring at the Hound with contempt.

"Get the fuck out the way!" He said, not slowing down. But the men did no such thing, they in fact fanned out to block the path, so they would have to slam into them to have any hope of passing at all. When they got close enough the Hound finally released his grip on Sansa, and put his hand to his sword. "I said get the_ fuck _out of the way!"

"You wouldn't be trying to leave the castle now would you Clegane? Taking a little handmaiden with you as a trophy?" The guard asked. The other two started circling in on him.

"Don't make me ask again," Was all Sandor said, barring his teeth like a true hound.

"Hear that boys? I think the dog got a bit of a bark on him today," The first guard said. One of the men unsheathed his sword and Sansa screamed for him to look out, but she needn't have bothered. The Hound turned quickly and kicked the man in the abdomen, sending him sprawling on the ground, while taking his head and thrusting it forward at the speaker, shattering his nose easily. The third man jumped on his back, trying to wrestle him to the ground, but Clegane was nearly double his size, and flipped the man right over his back and landed him on his ass. He pierced the man straight through the chest with his sword, turning to do the same to the man he had kicked. When the man with the broken nose saw how easily his comrades went down, he pushed back Sandor and ran straight at Sansa.

She panicked for a moment, thinking he meant to kill her, but she saw in his eyes that he was more worried about escape. Sandor screamed for her to stop him, and she didn't know why exactly, but she obeyed. She threw her body into his as he went to pass, and they went down hard. The Hound stomped over to the man and lifted him up by the back of the neck before pinning him to the wall.

"You would have lived had you just listened to me," Clegane said, and slowly pressed his blade into the man's shoulder, making him scream out in pain. He then removed the sword and beheaded the guard right there, making Sansa scream once more. She had seen a man beheaded before, and it was not a fond memory. She started shaking, but had no time to linger as Clegane grabbed her once more and continued on their trek out of the castle. She didn't find her breath nor her voice for quite some time, just was dragged around like a child's toy.

Not too many more people got in their way, and when they did they didn't stay there long. Sandor cut down many, and Sansa was too stunned to tell him to stop. If the price of her freedom meant the death of others, she wasn't sure it was so worth it.

"You killed all those men," She said, when they finally reached the stables and he led her to his giant warhorse, Stranger. The Hound laughed mercilessly as he saddled the great beast, doing the work with surprisingly deft hands.

"If I didn't kill them little bird, they'da went straight to the Queen once they saw you. How far do you think we would have got then?" He asked. Rather than wait for her reply he grabbed her around the waist. She screeched at the touch, thinking he was going to try and take her right there. A look of disgust crossed his face and he let her go. "By all means, I'd love to see you crawl up there by yourself," He said, jerking his head towards Stranger.

"I I'm sorry," She sputtered out. "Please help me," She said, trying to keep her voice from quaking. He approached her slowly this time and grabbed her a bit more gently, lifting her effortlessly onto the horses back. She couldn't sit properly on the horse in the gown she was wearing, so she settled for sitting side saddled until the Hound glared at her. He fumbled at his belt for something and produced a knife, making Sansa nearly scream again.

"If I meant to hurt you I already would have," He snapped at her and grabbed the hem of her dress, using the knife to make a great slit in her skirts. She blushed furiously at that, and it seemed Clegane enjoyed seeing her put out of sorts. "Sit right on the horse, we have to ride hard tonight," He ordered her.

Sansa sat front face on the horse and made room for Sandor to climb in behind her. On their way out they ran down two more men, and Sansa closed her eyes, praying to every god she could think of that this was a good idea.

* * *

**End Note: In my stories I always age Sansa up to about 16 for my own peace of mind and the pairings I put her in, so she is a late bloomer here and such. Leave me a review if you liked it, it will feed my life force and make me mightier than all. XxOo Lady Serenade**


	2. Chapter One: A Violent Start

**Disclaimer in the intro **

**Author's Note: Some fluffy violence and me making Sansa and Sandor chat it up and such. Dorenville is a town I made up but it's very unimportant because this is the only chapter you are likely to see it in. Enjoy! Leave me a review and let me know what you think! They make me strong of heart!**

* * *

**Chapter One: A Violent Start**

Sansa had never seen a more beautiful sunrise. She felt so full of life, so free, more free than she could remember feeling in a long time. They made it through the hellish night, and now they were miles away from King's Landing. If she had it her way, they wouldn't stop, they would keep going forever. She knew though that she couldn't take another second in the saddle, her whole body aching atop the mountainous horse. She felt the Hound swaying behind her as well. They needed to stop and rest, but all she could see in any direction were trees. No sign of some kind of shelter, though right now she wouldn't even mind sleeping right on the ground.

As if he had heard her thoughts, Clegane finally decided it was time to pull Stranger to a stop. The area wasn't ideal, the ground coated in mud, but there was a small stream nearby, and Sansa knew that this wasn't going to be a glamorous trip either way. He swung himself off the horse a bit sloppily, taking a couple seconds to stretch out before reaching up to help Sansa down. Even letting go of the bridle filled her arms and hands with pain. She tried to lean easily into him for help down and ended up tipping sideways right off the horse. She never made contact with the ground though, the Hound catching her easily. She felt like a child in his arms, but found a slight sense of comfort in it. He set her on her feet but held her shoulders.

"Won't be able to feel legs or ass for a bit," He warned her gruffly, leading her over to an area that still retained some grass, and easing her into a sitting position. She tried not to wince in pain, but honestly it seemed impossible.

"We're going to sleep here then?" She asked as he turned back to his horse.

"No," He answered her. He then produced a long lead rope from his saddle bags and hitched Stranger up to a tree, ruffling around a bit more, and pulling a large black water skin from his things. He stomped back over to her and sat down roughly next to her, handing her the skin. Sansa greedily took a long pull off it, but her mouth was filled with fire. She was about to spit it out when the Hound forbade her. "You better swallow that girl," He warned her. She obeyed, and then had to gasp in a couple of breaths.

"That's awful," She said between coughs.

"Aye, but it will put a fire in your belly and get your feet moving when our rest is over," He told her and grabbed it back, taking in twice as much as she had.

"I thought you said we weren't sleeping here?" She asked innocently.

"We're not, we're resting. Seeing as how I just kidnapped that little shit's betrothed, I figured you'd want to put as much distance between here and King's Landing as possible," He told her, handing back the water skin. She was about to refuse but he fixed her with a stony glare and she meekly grabbed it again, taking a much smaller sip this time. The burn of it down her throat was a little easier.

"You didn't kidnap me, you saved me," She said cautiously. "Are you going to tell me why?"

"No," He said again, drinking more and pushing it back into her hands. Sansa honestly didn't think she could stomach another sip, but she did anyways, feeling giddy in her new found freedom, no matter how fragile it was at this point. The third sip was easier than the last, and she found this time it burned less too, and felt rather more pleasant. She handed him the skin again, and this time their fingers got tangled together in the trade. Sansa squeaked and dropped it, then started giggling like a young girl.

"Give me that," He said and snatched it off the ground, but Sansa could have sworn that for the briefest of seconds there was a smile playing on the good side of his mouth. She had never seen him smile before. She then thought about how interesting of a moment this was. How unafraid she felt, how truly happy she was to be in the wild, and how she was sharing this all with the Hound, for some reason not minding at all. She dreamt of something like this once, but this was no dream, even though her body started to feel like she was floating. She looked down as the skin was pressed back into her hands. "Another," He ordered her. She drank.

"We should make for the coast and sail to Pentos," She said suddenly, making Clegane bark a laugh.

"Why would the little bird wish to sail there?" He asked, drinking more.

"We'll never make it to Robb. We could go there and send word to him, wait out the war. It's just..the North is so far. I've spent so long dreaming about it, but I feel like I'll never be there again. Not truly, and even if we do make it back I'll be a constant target. Every moment of my life I'll be looking over my shoulder," She told him, taking the skin from him this time instead of waiting for it to be handed to her. She didn't look at his face, but if she had, she would have seen that strange look in his eyes again, like the day she threatened him about taking her life.

"We'll make it to the North, you'll be safe," He said to her, then corked the skin and set it aside.

"Do you promise?" She asked, though she wasn't sure why. She knew very well no one could promise her safety. He couldn't even truly promise they would make it to Robb. There was a Lannister army in their way for one, and secondly they were both widely recognizable, it would be one hell of a mission, and she wasn't sure they were up to the task.

"Aye little bird, I promise," He said and laughed. For once, to her, it seemed a genuine laugh, no sarcasm in it at all. It made her feel special in a way, but right now her whole body was tingling warmly and she felt all kinds of emotions. She wanted to sing, she wanted to cry, she wanted to run. She did none of those things however, just sat there contentedly and watching the brightening sky.

* * *

The second time they came to a stop the sun was setting. Sandor hadn't slept in nearly two days and he couldn't even think straight anymore. The ride had been long today, the girl chatting incessantly in a drunken stupor. He had no idea she could talk so much. He humoured her, when he had something worth saying, but he honestly just liked to sit there and listen, and she hadn't needed much encouragement to tell stories that were rather entertaining. Most of them had involved her life back at Winterfell, and painted a vivid picture of what her upbringing had been like. A fairytale compared to his own. The stern Ned Stark as protector and father, the loving and fierce Catelyn as mother. Her valiant older brother, and pestering younger siblings. He could hear the longing in her voice as she spoke of them. She had mentioned many more times that they should sail away instead of trying to cross the Lannister lines, but he wouldn't hear of it. He would bring her home, even if it killed him in the process.

She had asked something though that changed him. She asked him to stay with her in the North. It was such a small thing, possibly an inebriated request she wouldn't even remember in the morning, but it changed everything in him. She couldn't possibly mean it, but it was everything he wanted, in the most secret parts of his abandoned sensibilities. He had no idea why she trusted him, was it just because he got her out of the castle? Was it when he has saved her from the mob, or from certain death when she almost pushed Joffrey off the walkway? He didn't deserve her trust or faith in him, but he wanted to deserve it, wanted to earn and keep it.

Everything about her was hypnotic to him, pulling at his every sense. It wasn't just her beauty that formed more truly every day. It was more her unbreakable kindness, a kindness he would kill for, if only it could be his. It was the strength she didn't even know she had, and the wit she could afford to use more often. She seemed like such a warm place, like such a loving home. But she wasn't his, she would never be his, and dreaming of the girl like he did so often threatened his entire existence. He knew who he was, a vicious hound. He could protect her, but never have her. It was something he told himself daily.

Now they were stopped next to a hunter's lean-to, abandoned in the woods. It wasn't much, but it was enough for the night. They were far from King's Landing now, not far enough, but it would have to do unless he wanted to fall out of the saddle in exhaustion. Sansa was already asleep sitting up, and had been for the better part of an hour. She had been leaning on him for support, and he had to tuck his arms in tight to their sides to keep her on the horse. It had been a bliss too short lived. He stole the moment but now it was time for true rest.

"Wake up girl," He said roughly, shaking her by the shoulder. She slumped forward slightly but then shook her head and opened her eyes, looking about her lazily into the night.

"Where are we?" She asked groggily.

"Nowhere," He said, and got down from Stranger with greater effort than he realized he would need. He could barely stand, and helping Sansa down from the saddle almost ended with her flat on her face, but he managed to stand her upright. She walked right to the lean-to and nearly fell to lay down. He was sure she was probably already asleep the moment she was on the ground.

He unsaddled the horse quickly, and hitched him to a tree again, taking the saddle blanket and folding it into a small pillow. He managed to get himself into the lean-to as well, and put the little pillow under Sansa's head. He peeled off his armor and cast it aside with little grace, laying down next to her but with enough space to be respectful. He drifted that night with fear of a whole new kind of fire.

* * *

When Sansa awoke the next morning, her entire body was aching. Her head pounded viciously and her arms and legs felt like stone. The sun hitting her in the face made her nauseous and she tried to turn away from it but ran into something. She opened her eyes in confusion, momentarily forgetting where she was and who she was with. She half expected to wake back up in her room back in King's Landing, but the sight of the Hound's scar, inches from her face, brought her back to reality. Her heart lightened and her aches seemed less prominent. She was on her way home, it hadn't all been an illusion.

She didn't move at first, even though she was very close to him. She had never gotten to look at his face so long and unperturbed before. She sat up ever so slowly, even though it pained her physically, so she could get a better look. The scar was bad, there was no denying that, but she tried to look past it. She wondered what he would look like without it, how it would change his life if his face was whole. It wasn't the first time she wondered that, but now she could stare at him for this moment without fear. She surmised he could have been handsome in a different life, if he smiled more and didn't have such a wicked tongue and ruthless nature.

"Stop staring at me," He said, making her scream in fright and back away.

"I'm sorry," She said breathlessly as he opened his eyes and sat up. He looked angry. Maybe that wasn't the right word for it, but all the ease that had been between them on the night of their escape seemed to have evaporated. He was looking at her now how he used to, with vague disgust.

"Go fetch my drink," He ordered, starting to stand and step away from her. She looked about in confusion and then laid eyes on Stranger. Then a bit of fear crept in on her. "He won't bite if you're quick," He said tauntingly.

Sansa in turn took it as a challenge. She walked up to the horse quickly, taking careful time to avoid his head, and went to the saddlebags. She found the skin quickly enough and brought it back to him with a satisfied smirk. The smile was not returned, in fact he wouldn't even look at her, and the rest of the morning, preparing to set out again, was spent in utter silence. It wasn't that she was aching for his conversation, but she couldn't help but wonder where the sudden shift had come from. Was it only the drink that had made things so easy before? She was sad to realize that was probably true.

They set out quickly, and Sansa could feel every shift of the horse beneath her as she fought hangover and soreness from the day before. She could use a long soak, and some food to be honest, but the longer the silence stretched on the more afraid she was to ask. What if he suddenly felt she was a burden? Not worth the effort North? She remembered asking him to stay with her, to go on protecting her even when she was back in Winterfell. He had told her simply that there was no way things would work out that way, and told her to stop dreaming, he was no knight in shining armor. It had been told to her gently, but today she could see his true meaning. She knew he would get a great deal of money bringing her back to her brother. That's what this was.

The elation of the day before wore off quickly, and the higher the sun rose the more sick she felt. It was too grueling of a pace, but she kept her mouth shut. She refused to complain. After all, the quicker they got North the quicker she would have her true freedom. She longed for it so, and tried to keep it in her thoughts as they travelled, but by midday she couldn't take another second of her many aches.

"We need to stop," She said, breaking their hours long silence.

"We'll stop when we get to Dorenville," He told her harshly.

"I'm going to be sick," She said indignantly.

"You can get as sick as you want in another hour," He replied.

They were quiet the rest of the way.

* * *

Dorenville was a small town, mostly farmers and lumber men. There was a rather large mill next to a small flowing river, but not much else to see. Sandor had made Sansa wear his cloak to hide her hair, but the cloak itself would grant them attention. Not to mention he had no way of hiding his face. They would have to get supplies quickly and move on, before they caused too much of a stir. Anyone that came through this town after them would know they were there, so they would have to take straight back to the wilderness when they were done here.

"I'll buy the things we need, you stay on the horse and don't talk to anyone. Act like you're touched in the head if you have to, but don't give anyone any information," He told her as Stranger carried them into the town proper. The smell of the tidy little market was enough to make both their stomachs growl. Sandor dismounted quickly, and told Sansa to keep riding on, stay close enough to hear him whistle and warned her again to talk to no one.

"If I run into trouble?" She asked before departing.

"You're on a warhorse little bird, he'll take care of you if you run into trouble," He said to her, making his way into the market.

People openly gawked at him, children pointed and gasped, and whispers of 'the Hound' rippled all around him. He ignored them all, as he so often had to, and bought the things he would need till they got to the next town they could stop in. He had enough money to buy some of the vendors out of stock, but he would only get just enough. Dried meats, hard bread, horse feed, and enough drink to keep him properly stupid on the road. He had his own bedroll on Stranger, but bought one twice as nice for Sansa, as well as a pair of soft kid boots for her so she wouldn't have to go in slippers any longer. He thought about buying her clothing, but had no idea how to even start such a venture. She couldn't go around in a torn and tattered dress with his bloody white cloak draped about her.

When he whistled for Stranger he didn't have to wait long for them to come back. He loaded down the saddle bags and handed Sansa a few coins, more than enough to get anything she needed. He helped her down from the saddle and told her to go buy sensible clothing, something nondescript for the road.

"Thank you," She said, always with kindness, before making off into the market. Sandor just stood with Stranger, avoiding people's stares and whispers until she got back. She hadn't taken very long and came back with a significant bundle of cloth beneath her arm.

"We should leave," She told him quietly upon approach. "People started whispering about me in the market, and a man tried to grab me."

White hot anger shot into his veins, and an urge to smash a man's jaw. "Where?" He asked her tightly, but already she was shaking her head no.

"He was harmless," She tried to pacify him.

"How many harmless men do you know?" He demanded of her. "Where is he?" She sighed but eventually turned and pointed to a group of shabby looking men standing by the baker's stall.

She tried meekly to grab his arm as he walked past her, but it might as well have been a bunny rabbit trying to stop a charging bull. He was hungover, starving, and in the mood for violence. He made his way over to them and stood behind one of the men, staying quiet until they turned and noticed him there. Most off of them had to crane their necks slightly to see him.

"Whaddya want ugly?" One of the men said and spat on the ground.

"Ugly? Why I'm the beauty of the town!" Sandor said, laughing thunderously and clapping one of the men hard enough on the back to send him sprawling forwards. "Watch yer step there," He said still laughing, looking up to meet the first man in the eye.

"What is this?" The much smaller man asked, seeming to get a bit nervous. People walking by were sensing the tension, and slowing down to look.

"I think you need yer eyes checked," Sandor said with a grimace-like smile. "How far can you see? Can you see my big old horse back there?" The Hound said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to where Sansa stood, cautiously trying to pet Stranger on the shoulder. The men turned and looked, and the realization on their faces was quite the entertainment.

"Shit," The first man said under his breath.

"How about we check them eyes?" Clegane said and lunged forward to grab the man by the front of his torn up shirt. The others bolted outright when they saw how easy it was for the errant knight to throw people around. He brought the man up to eye level and pulled out his knife. "Can you see this?" He asked. The man nodded nervously, whimpering like a babe. It only made Sandor more angry. He pushed the tip of the knife into the man's eye slowly, making him howl in pain. There were cries all around him to stop, and before the small folk rallied against him, he pulled the knife back out again and dropped the man flat in the mud.

"Next time little man, you will meet some big ugly bastard who will do you worse. Be grateful I've such a tender heart," Sandor said and walked back to Stranger calmly as people went to the man to check if he was alright.

Sansa was gaping at him in open horror, but he didn't care. He grabbed her quickly and seated her on the horse, swinging up into the saddle behind her. Now was truly the time to go, before he caused some kind of a riot. He never was really pleasant while hungover.

* * *

They travelled far enough that day that Sansa had to be lifted from the saddle again, shooting pains in her legs prevented her from being able to fully walk and sit on her own as well. It was a small comfort to see that the Hound seemed to be wincing here and there as well, so it wasn't just her weakness of body that caused her to be sore, they truly were setting a nearly illogical pace. She never complained though. She could still be back in her own hell if it wasn't for this little venture, and she was always grateful every second of the journey.

She watched from her seat on the ground as Clegane set up camp. She was even pleasantly surprised to see he had bought her something to sleep on, and when he set it out she went to work doing what little she could to do her own share. She knew nothing about building a good fire or the like, but she could be sensible enough to get some food and drink out, setting it on the saddle blanket to be warmed with the fire. Next she got out the clothing she had bought back in town, and the small sewing kit she had purchased as well, and sat on her bedroll to get to work.

Travelling as they were, they of course were going to have problems, besides the obvious fact they were still in Lannister territory. Sansa happened to be pretty easily distinguished, and if she was easy to spot, the Hound might as well have a herald to announce his presence. She was going to have to make them disguises and hope for the best. As long as they didn't visit too many towns, and stopped making scenes, then they could just work.

"May I see your knife?" She asked him when she had everything laid out in order. He looked up at her suspiciously, but eventually his hand went to his belt and he handed it over to her hilt first. He kept an eye on her curiously as he went about stripping his armor and then warming up their meager meal. He set hers next to her and continued to watch in silence as she worked.

"Do you want your cloak back?" She asked him.

"Fuck that cloak," He said with a mouthful of food. She shrugged her shoulders and went to work cutting off the parts that were stained through with blood. Her own dress wasn't in much better shape, torn clear up to her thigh on one side, with the hem so caked in mud it was stiff. She couldn't wait to get out of it.

"Do you still have your helm?" She asked. He looked at first like he was going to ignore her, but eventually took a long sip of something and then went to Stranger's saddle bags and pulled out his hound helm, tossing it before her in the grass.

"Thank you," She said simply. She held up a piece of black cloth and started arranging it around the helm, pinning parts in place. Her fingers found joy in the work, and she felt at much at ease out here in the open air as she had felt in a very long time. She was breathing clean air, not being stalked actively by spies of her enemies, and she had something useful to do. She worked for the better part of an hour in a comfortable silence while the Hound watched her.

"You haven't touched yer food," He said eventually.

"I'm sorry, I got distracted," She said putting her work down for a second and finally turning her attention back to her meal and the fire before her.

"Don't apologize, eat," He said, watching her very closely. She could feel his eyes on her. She wasn't uncomfortable with it, but it seemed he had been steadily drinking since they had sat down, and she wasn't sure what he was thinking. She tried to subtly shift her dress to hide her bare leg that she hadn't realized was exposed. He laughed when he saw her do it, and finally turned his gaze from her. "So what have you been working on over there?" He asked her.

"We can't exactly keep appearing in public, so I thought we could change who we were," She said and reached for the cloth she had been working on from his cloak. "See?" She said and placed it over her head. It worked as a sort of hood and veil, something you might see in the Free Cities, and only her eyes and nose showed out of it.

"You're going to go around wearing that?" He asked her while drinking more.

"Actually," She said hesitantly. "This one's for you. Mine will need more coverage if it's to look authentic."

She watched him for a second before she realized she made a huge mistake. His face contorted into anger and he was on his feet in seconds. He turned and threw his drink at her, not really aiming it at her head it landed hard before her and the liquid sloshed a bit onto her dress, then she was standing too. She wanted to slap him, but was afraid she would lose her hand in the effort.

"What's wrong with you?" She asked irritably and half shouting.

"You want me to hide my face in a veil like a fucking courtesan?" He roared at her, making her shrink back in fear. "You were staring at it just this morning. Does it disgust you?"

"No!" She shouted back and he took one step towards her, but it was enough to send her skirting around to the other side of the fire.

"Don't lie to me!" He shouted at her.

"I'm not lying! I thought it would protect you, people wouldn't see your face and call you Hound!" She shrieked back, angry tears coming to her face. "I was just trying to help!"

"You were trying to help me?" He growled at her, and was around the fire and standing before her quicker than she thought to react. He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the face, the shouting and rage a blur. "You think you can fucking help me girl? You can't even help yourself!"

"Stop it," She said in an even tone, meeting his wild eye. "You're hurting me."

He didn't let her go, and she wasn't sure what he was going to do, but she had long since learned that when she let herself be scared of him it was always worse. She had to show courage, had to treat him like a human. So many had treated him as a monster, a dog, as nothing. She knew for some reason he couldn't handle when she did the same. So she reached up with one of her hands, though it was shaking uncontrollably, and placed it on his good cheek. "Let me go Sandor," She said gently.

It shattered him. He pulled his hands from her like she were open flame, his eyes had gone from wild to somber in a heartbeat, and his whole body seemed to sag. He was whispering something over and over again and she had to strain to hear. _"My name,"_ He was saying again and again, like he had never expected her to call him that. He shook his head as if to clear it and went back to the other side of the fire to retrieve his drink skin.

"Aye, I'll wear the fucking veil," He said gruffly before stomping off into the woods. She was left breathless and confused.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed their drunken revelry! xoxox LadySerenade**


	3. Chapter Two: She-Wolf

**Disclaimer in the intro. **

**Author's Note: This is the chapter where Sansa becomes a bad ass. Also there will be the appearance of a knight I totally made up. Enjoy! Also don't forget to review and uplift my soul! 3**

* * *

**Chapter Two: She-Wolf**

By the time Sandor stumbled back into camp it was late in the night, and Sansa was already sound asleep. There was a pile of clothes folded neatly next to her bedroll, and his had been set out for him, with his new clothing by it as well. He had an urge to throw them all in the fire and resisted it with difficulty. Instead he went to his saddlebags and procured the boots he had bought her, setting it next to her other things. It was a small act, but maybe it would ease the damage he had no doubt caused with his earlier outrage. He still remembered the fear in her eyes when he took hold of her, but more importantly, her bravery. Her saying his name, laying her hand upon his cheek. It was all too much, too close to what he wanted. It was pure torment.

He heard her say it again and again in his mind, _Sandor_. How delicious the word had sounded coming from her lips. How he had never heard something so wonderful to him in his life. He wanted her to say it again, he wanted to wake her up right now and make her say it. To scream it, to sigh it. His head was a mess, he was piss drunk, and he had a lust for her right now that was so strong he almost had to leave the camp again. There had been so many moments back in King's Landing he had thought of her, becoming obsessed with tormenting her and saving her in turns. Now all he wanted to do was protect her, to make her see him as something other than he was. But he wanted more too, something forbidden, something he knew better than to be thinking about.

The moon was so bright, shining right on her coppery locks, making her pale face glow. He could hardly resist the urge to go to her now, to just touch her unspoiled cheek, her uncorrupted perfection, so completely opposite of his own.

"_I'm not lying! I thought it would protect you, people wouldn't see your face and call you Hound!" _

Her words were writhing in his mind. Her trying to shield him from the world and what they called him, what they knew him to be. It was a kindness he didn't earn from her, wasn't sure he wanted her to give him. He wanted to be defiant, to not care about people gawking at his face, but she had been right. He had to stay anonymous, he had to protect her and get her to her brother. Then he could leave this wickedness behind and never see her again, which would be best for both of them. But gods, he didn't want to. He wanted to stay with her always, like she asked in her naivety. She had a child's adoration towards him for saving her life, but he knew he wanted so much more. More than she would ever willingly give him.

He eventually lay on his bedroll, turning towards her. He watched her as she slept, his head spinning with thoughts of things he told himself he would never have in his life, not just from her but from any woman ever. As the drink started to pull him under, down into a dreamless oblivion, he said her name out loud. He chanted it like a prayer until he fell asleep.

* * *

Sansa woke with the dawn, feeling well rested and ready for another day, though she was still in confusion from the night before. She was relieved to see Sandor had come back to camp, and was snoring loudly a few feet away from her. She wouldn't disturb him, and turned to get her new clothing so she could finally change. When she went to grab them she saw a small pair of kid leather boots set by her things. She realized that he must have bought them for her back in town, and smiled as she snatched them up with the rest of her things and made off into the woods.

She could find no water nearby and feared getting lost if she went too far from camp. She would have to be grateful enough just to get out of her ruined dress. She stripped down quickly, the early morning chill raising gooseflesh on her skin. It reminded her of home, and she reveled in it as she shook out her new outfit. She had cut the sleeves and neckline from the dress so that her breasts would have to hold it up, and cut two slits on either side so she would be able to ride Stranger normally. The dress was the brightest she could find at the market, a color somewhere between orange and red. She put it on slowly, realizing that it was a snug fit, but it would have to make do. She cast aside her slippers, which were brown now and falling apart, and put on her new boots. They fit her perfectly, and she laughed in joy from it. She then did her best to put her hair in a braid, though it was such a snarled mess it was a difficult task to accomplish, and she was sure none to lovely to look at, but it would be hidden so it didn't really matter. Next she put on her veil, which was equal parts black cloth, with some of Sandor's white cloak sewn on as a hasty trim. She then used a swath of yellow cloth and draped it across her shoulders diagonally, tying the ends of it together at her hip.

She couldn't see what she looked like, but she hoped it was something along the lines of foreign and lovely and no one would be able to tell who she truly was. She felt more at ease, that was to be certain, and though she wasn't clean she at least felt more presentable. She wasn't sure what to do with her old dress so she carried it back to the camp with her, maybe she would be able to burn it on the fire.

When she got back she noticed Sandor was still asleep, and wondered how late he had been gone last night. She was slightly afraid to wake him up, not having parted on the best terms before, but she was eager to keep moving. She crept over to him slowly, like she was approaching a sleeping animal, one with teeth and claws that she shouldn't startle. She stood next to him a long time, gathering her courage to tap him on the shoulder. She did so hesitantly, and it did nothing to rouse him. She tapped him a couple more times and nothing, still snoring and dead asleep.

"Sandor," She said, jabbing him a little harder. "Sandor wake up," She said a little more loudly and shook his shoulder hard. His bloodshot eyes shot open, and took her in for a moment before shoving her violently away and pulling his knife, standing up unsteadily. He looked over to where her bedroll was and noticed it all folded up, then shook his head in confusion. Sansa loosed half her veil so it fell away from her face.

"It's me! Calm down it's just me!" She cried, not having thought he wouldn't recognize her in disguise. She kept her eye on the knife the whole time. When his eyes finally lit in recognition he lowered the knife slowly, and swayed on his feet.

"Shit," He said, swaying forward still half asleep. He had to take a knee to keep from falling on his face.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have woke you," Sansa said meekly, rising to her feet.

"Shut it, it's too early for your constant apologizing," He growled at her as he rubbed his temples methodically.

"Well maybe if you weren't hung over every morning you would be more pleasant," She snapped at him before going to gather up the rest of her things and pack them away in the saddle bags. When she looked over her shoulder at him he was glaring.

"Maybe you should start being hungover every morn, so you would shut up," He replied to her.

"Put your clothes on and get up," She said sternly, she was already packed up and moving towards him to show him the things she had made while he was away last night. She held a length of red cloth before him. "We'll drape this across your armor and chest, then add the veil. Alright?"

He didn't say anything, just got up and stomped off into the woods. She wanted to scream! This was worse than the two weeks she had to chase Rickon around their home when he refused to wear clothing and had a propensity for scandalizing the maids.

"Where are you going?" She called after him. "Take these with you!"

"I'm going to take a piss, by all means come with me and hold my cock," He barked back at her, making her blush furiously.

"You're vile," She shouted at him, starting to lose her temper with this man who was no better than a foul mouthed child. She set to work cleaning up the rest of the camp, and even thought to try and saddle Stranger while she was at it. In turn, she couldn't even lift the saddle. She had to settle for getting the saddle blanket on him without getting her hand bit off. She managed to get it over the great beast, but the horse danced to the side suddenly and knocked the wind right out of her and landed her on her backside. It was enough to push her into a fit. She was so sick of being nice to everyone and everything around her and to receive no ease of her own. She stomped her boot into the ground and stood up, pointing a nagging finger at the horse.

"You're just as bad as him!" She yelled at him, and had to snatch her hand back quickly when the horse snapped at her. "I hate you!" She shouted again, stomping her foot once more like a dejected toddler.

"Alright calm down over there before you hurt yourself," She heard Sandor's voice from behind her, and whirled on him, ready to scream all her held back insults in his face. He was already taking a drink from that damn skin of his, and she was reckless enough to march over to him and smack it right out of his hands as he was bringing it to his mouth.

"You will stay sober today!" She cried at him. "So get dressed, we're leaving!"

"Now you wait a gods cursed second," He said, his voice starting to rise. He was cut off when Sansa pulled a knife on him. His knife. The one he forgot to get back from her the day before. "What do you think you're going to do with that little girl?" He asked slowly.

"I don't know, come over here and I'll see what I can manage," She said threatening him. Her anger was already wavering though, losing her courage by the second. She knew there was no way she could do any permanent damage to him with just a knife, but after last night she would be damned if she was caught unarmed again. "I've been through the seven hells ever since King Robert Baratheon came to Winterfell. No one has shown me even the slightest bit of respect. No one has been kind. So you will start being pleasant to me or I'll carve the good half of your face when you sleep."

"Are you threatening me little bird? You don't have it in you to hurt me," He said to her, like he was so sure of that fact.

"I'm capable of things that would shock you," She said, lying through her teeth. She was losing her momentum, but she wouldn't let him make her chicken out of the first act of defiance she had shown in ages. "I've reached the edge."

"Put the knife away Sansa," He said calmly, with a taunting smile on his face. He had said her name, her real name. It was the same trick she pulled last night, and while it didn't have as big of an effect on Sansa as it had had on him, it still shook her slightly. She held the knife out to him, hilt first. She felt defeated now, sad with herself to have given in to her rage like that. Sandor didn't take the knife though, only shook his head.

"You keep it. Maybe I'll teach you how to use it on the road," He told her. He then started putting on his disguise, and they were on the move in no time.

* * *

When the sun started dipping down for the night, Stranger had brought them to the outskirts of a small hamlet. They were going to go around, but Sandor saw the way Sansa's eyes lit up when she spotted the little inn on the way into the hamlet and it's warm glow. He had set a breakneck speed to get them far from King's Landing, and he knew she was probably sore and dirty and wouldn't mind a bed for the night. He led them on the path to the inn, and he could practically feel the excitement off her.

The day between them had been surprisingly pleasant. No more arguing, no more threatening, and though he had listened and kept sober, they were still able to hold a few small conversations that were civil. Something that he realized on their journey today though, was that he was starting to develop a genuine attachment to the girl. He knew that she thought he was angry with her for the way she yelled at him this morning, and pulling the knife on him and all, but really it had the opposite effect. He was starting to see the real Sansa Stark, not the docile little creature that lived in fear of the Lannisters. He saw fire in her today, and he enjoyed it.

"Oh," She sighed dreamily. "Are we going to stay here for the night?" She asked with a heart touching hopefulness in her voice. He knew soon, he wouldn't be able to deny her anything.

"Yes. We will have to keep on our veils anywhere anyone can see us. Clear?" He asked her.

"Clear," She said and shot him a smile over his shoulder that made his black heart nearly skip a beat. She was undoing him every second, and he wasn't as strong as he thought he would be able to be with her.

When they got close enough to the inn a stable boy came running out at them, shoeless and too scrawny. He asked if he could stable their horse, holding out a hand for a coin or two. Sandor told him no, the horse was mean and the boy couldn't handle it, but gave him a coin just to leave them alone. He was rewarded from this with another smile from Sansa, and her telling him it was a kind thing to do. Yeah, that was him, Sandor the Kind. When they got to the stables he gave her a small amount of money and told her to go get them a pair of rooms, and to be firm with the inn keep, not to let him over charge her. He wanted to see what she could manage really, and wasn't too worried if she did end up overpaying.

"You won't be long right?" She asked as she made her way out of the stables. Only her eyes were visible in her disguise, but she was still achingly beautiful.

"I'm only a stones throw away girl," He said gruffly. "Get on with you."

He saw her eyes smiling as she turned and walked away.

* * *

Sansa gathered all the courage she had as she walked into the inn. This was the first time someone other than Sandor would be seeing her disguise. She felt safe with the knife in her boot that she barely knew how to use. He had taught her the proper way to hold it when they had stopped for their noonday meal, but even then she wasn't sure she could actually hurt someone with it. If she had to though, she would.

She pushed the door open and walked into the inn with all the swagger and confidence of a rich foreigner. She walked straight up to the barkeep before looking around at the taproom. It had quite the crowd for the night, and she realized this was probably where the people from the hamlet came to do their drinking when the day was done. Many of them were already staring at her, and she heard many different whispers. Some called her Dornish, others Braavosi or islander. It seemed they couldn't figure quite what to make of her. They hadn't probably seen many foreigners in a place as small as this, and she fully planned on using that to her advantage.

"Can I help ya miss?" The barkeep asked, a big burly man with thick arms and a wild beard.

"This place is so charming, what do you call it?" She asked, trying to mimic the accent of Arya's old dancing tutor. It probably didn't sound too authentic, but what would they know?

"Raven's Inn," The barkeep said, openly taking in her body. "Where ya from? We don't get too many pass through here."

"The Free Cities," Sansa said, keeping the lie vague and open. "I will be requiring rooms for the night," She told him, not looking him in the eye and playing the role of high and mighty.

"Rooms? A little thing like yerself needs more than one?" The barkeep said, laughing and leaning towards her.

"My body guard will require one as well," She said hotly, turning slightly away from him. At that moment Sandor came hulking through the door, perfectly on time with her story. She wanted to giggle slightly but kept herself under control. She heard the barkeep whistle quietly, and several men stared at Clegane as he walked in, appreciating the sheer size of the man. They didn't gawk too much though and went back to their drinking.

"So two rooms then?" The man asked and swallowed nervously.

"Yes," Sansa replied, and produced a silver stag from her hand and placed it on the counter. The barkeep looked at it and rolled his eyes.

"That won't cover it, and I'm sure you'll want food and bath as well?" The barkeep said, starting the haggling. Sansa's disguise and demeanor gave her courage though, as well as the presence of Sandor who was now standing behind her. She snatched the coin back and laughed, setting a few copper pennies on the counter instead.

"Would you care to contradict me again?" She purred demurely, glaring at him over her veil. "Are we going to have a problem here peasant?"

The barkeep looked back and forth between Sansa and Sandor for a couple moments, and luckily decided not to cause a scene. He grabbed the coins and cursed under his breath, waving over a barmaid and telling her to lead them to the two rooms upstairs and bring them a meal and put out a warm bath for each. As they were walking away she heard him cursing under his breath.

"First them damn Lannister crooks and now an upstart whore and her giant," He muttered, turning away from them and walking into the back.

Sansa met Sandor's eyes as they walked up the stairs, feeling nervous. If there were Lannister men here, they could spot them. They would have to lay low, and leave first thing in the morning. She prayed silently that they wouldn't even see them, but she had a bad feeling in her gut.

At the top of the stairs the barmaid lead them to two rooms at the end of the hall, letting them know that they connected through a door, and handed the key to it to Sansa. She told them their baths would be drawn up within the hour and their meal sent up in two. Sansa felt bad for cheating the barkeep and tipped the maid generously. She was scared of being under the same roof as Lannister soldiers, but the prospect of a bath and warm meal triumphed over all.

* * *

Several hours later Sandor was drinking by the fire in his room, when he heard a knock came to the door that led to Sansa's room. He called for her to come in, and tried to steady out his breath as he heard the key turning in the lock. She entered slowly, without her veil. Her face was clean for the first time in days, and her hair was hanging loose and drying. She had on the same dress and wrap from earlier as well.

"Drinking already I see," She said as she walked into the room.

"Just something to help me sleep," He said, trying not to stare at her.

"May I join you?" She asked. He motioned for her to take the other chair, which she did. He caught a flash of legs as she sat, and refused to look back at her for a few more moments, lustful thoughts raging in his mind.

"Thank you for bringing me here," She said after a while. "I know you couldn't have wanted to."

"I don't mind having a bed for the night," He answered her. He grabbed a cup from the little table between them and poured her a glass of wine that had been brought up with his meal. She looked at it distastefully for a second, before she peered into the cup and saw familiar red liquid. She took a few small sips and smiled. "You handled the barkeep well," He told her, genuinely impressed with the way she did things.

"Thanks," She said with a small smile. "If I didn't have this ridiculous get up on I'm sure I couldn't have done it."

They sat in contented silence for a while, rather comfortably. It was broken though when a knock came to Sandor's door. Sansa froze with her cup halfway to her mouth.

"Go away," Clegane called out, and was met with the sound of a boot ramming into his door. Sansa shrieked and dropped her cup, backing slowly to her door. "Stay there, get ready to run if you have to," He told her, trying to keep her calm. The boot slammed into the door a second time, and the third time the wood started to splinter. The fourth sent the door off the hinges and onto the ground. Four men poured into the room, wearing Lannister colors. The one in the lead was a knight, ser Lukas, a man who had a special hatred for the Hound.

"I knew I'd find you here dog. I recognized your big ugly horse out in the stables," Lukas said grinning madly. "Word is you're a deserter."

"Where are your manners Lukas? I was just having a drink. Join me?" Sandor asked, returning the grin with one of his own, more terrifying by far. He grabbed the chair he had been sitting on and threw it at one of the men, knocking him into the wall. The sound of swords hissing out of their sheaths rang through the air, and Sandor lunged to grab his, which had been leaning within arm's reach along the wall. He looked to where Sansa had been standing and saw that she was in the doorway now, ready to flee in a second. Lukas followed his gaze and saw her as well.

"Kill the girl," He ordered.

The first man that lunged forward was met crosswise with Sandor's sword, his superior strength pushing him back into the second man. He quickly realized it would be too much though, the space was too small to maneuver in. He heard the door to Sansa's room slam and lock, giving him only temporary relief. He swung his sword in a wide arc, getting one of the men in the shoulder. He realized Lukas hadn't made a move yet, sitting back and watching everything with a cool eye.

Sandor put himself between the men and the door to Sansa, and actually came to appreciate the small space. He was large, and would have to be cut down to get to her. Steel rang on steel as he parried blow after blow, but he was tiring quickly, having to go twice as fast as usual to protect himself, for he was just wearing a linen shirt and pants. His size though was working to his advantage, and as he cut down the first of them, he saw the other two grow fearful, unsure.

He kicked one of the men in the groin with enough force to unman him, watching him with satisfaction as he rolled to the ground howling and in tears. Only two left, he felt hope rising in his chest, after all two was much better than four. Lukas was still hanging back, waiting till his men tired the Hound out before he struck. The last man looked angry, and rushed in sloppily with his sword raised high. Sandor knocked the blow aside with his own greatsword, and then dropped his weapon and grabbed the hilt of the other man's, turning it in his hands and forcing it back down towards the man. He tried to fight back, but he was clearly out muscled, and cried out as his strength gave out and the sword embedded itself into his collar. Sandor then used the smaller sword to finish the man on the ground before looking back to Lukas.

"What pathetic company you keep Lukas," Sandor said as he cast aside the sword and picked up his own again. "Let's see what you got then."

"I've been waiting for this Clegane. I'll get a handsome reward for bringing your deformed head to Joffrey. And think of how his mother will dote on me after I bring her Sansa Stark. I'll bring her back alive sure, but not unspoiled," Lukas said, still grinning like he had already won this battle.

"Your nine kinds of stupid if you think I'll let you touch her," Sandor said, the anger in him making his adrenaline spike.

"Am I too late Hound? Have you already spoiled her?" Lukas asked laughing. Sandor lunged in hard, landing a solid blow to the man's jaw for his effort. Lukas reeled back, but kept his balance and spit a mouth full of blood at Clegane.

Lukas kicked out to back Sandor away from him, and the bigger man let him have that. He always kept his back to Sansa's door though. He had to keep her safe, and now the wrath that was sending his vision red made him realize he would do that and more. He would rip Lukas' spine out before he let him touch her.

* * *

Sansa couldn't bear it any longer. The waiting was the worst, waiting in the other room like a coward while Sandor fought for their lives. Her mind was racing, there had to be something she could do. She felt the smooth steel blade in her boot, and it seemed to be burning the longer she waited. What would her mother do at a time like this? If someone she knew, and perhaps cared about, was about to be gutted in her name. What would Arya do? She knew the answer to both, because they were the brave Stark women, while Sansa was the delicate flower. But she couldn't be anymore. If Sandor died she would surely be taken, and even if she wasn't, she wouldn't be able to survive out in the wilderness on her own.

She didn't have much to lose, she was dead in any event. She took the key out and reached towards the lock with trembling hands. She unlocked it and brandished her knife, opening the door and looking into the room. She saw three men dead on the ground, and Sandor with the knight on his back and his hands wrapped around the Hound's throat. They had their backs towards her, and it was easy for her to creep into the room.

"_I'm capable of things that would shock you,"_ She had told him.

She needed to release her anger. So she remembered Lady, and how she had been cut down for Joffrey's lie. She thought then of her father, of the last moments she saw him and the fate he was sentenced to. Of Winterfell, and how it was no longer hers. She thought of Arya, most likely dead. She let the anger fill her up till she was quaking in rage. They were turning towards her, she had to act before it was too late. She screamed, a feral sound closer to the howl of the direwolf her house used as sigil, and plunged forward with the knife, burying it into the knight's throat. She pulled it back and stabbed twice more, till the man fell dead to the floor. Blood poured from the wound, red and thick, and pooled at her feet. Sandor turned and looked at her in shock, just reaching out an arm in time to catch her as she fainted.

* * *

**SO? Did you enjoy Sansa going all Arya on the knight? Sorry if you enjoy a more meek Sansa, because she won't be like that at all in this story, this is about her coming into her own and gaining the strength to be Queen in the North! More badass shenanigans from her will ensue, and Oberyn (swoon) will finally make an appearance next chapter! Though it is small. A chapter a day keeps my demons at bay! Hopefully will be up tomorrow xoxo LadySerenade**


	4. Chapter Three: Warriors and Wood Nymphs

**Disclaimer in the intro. **

**Author's Note: Finally Oberyn gets a snippet, but only a small one until he truly becomes a major player in the story. This chapter also Sansa gets pretty silly and it's mainly some fluff and junk. Smut will be next chapter I promise, I know this because I already wrote it and will post it tomorrow I'm assuming. Much love!**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Warriors and Wood Nymphs **

**Dorne**

"My Prince," Mory said as he entered the room, arms stretched wide. Prince Oberyn smiled broadly and rose to his feet, embracing his old friend for a moment.

"I didn't know you were home my friend, sit and drink with me," The Prince said, gesturing to the heavily laden table.

"Can we speak privately?" Mory asked, a few of Oberyn's daughters were in the room, and he was sure this was a topic to be discussed with the Prince alone.

"Of course," Oberyn said immediately, and waved his hands at the girls who rose obediently and left, giving their father a kiss on the cheek before they made their exit. Once they were alone the two men sat at the table and talked of small things a while before Oberyn finally demanded to know what Mory was holding back.

"You always told me to come directly to you with news of anything that could harm the Lannisters," Mory said. The Prince nodded and urged him to continue. "I have some most interesting news for you then my Prince. Sansa Stark has escaped King's Landing in the night. The last anything was heard of her she was travelling through a small town where she caused a great scene."

"Why would I be interested about a Stark girl?" Oberyn asked as he leaned back lazily in his chair. Mory leaned forward conspiratorially.

"My words weren't quite right my friend, it wasn't her that made the scene really, it was the man that took her," Mory told him.

"You are being most dramatic today Mory, tell me who she travels with," The Prince demanded of him.

"The Hound, Sandor Clegane," Mory told him with a satisfied smirk. "The enemy of your enemy flees with another enemy of your enemy."

The Prince's smile this time wasn't joyful at all. His mind was already forming half plans and calculating outcomes as the information digested. He had no real love for the Starks since Prince Rhaegar left his sister for one, but this new Stark girl could be something very different indeed. She was the key to why the King in the North didn't strike at King's Landing, and now that she was safer than she had been, chaos would break out for the Lannisters. He didn't just want them to lose the war, but to be obliterated, to be nothing. Traitors the lot of them, and he had a special distaste for the way they pushed around their money and thought to buy the world. As for the matter of Sandor Clegane, well that was pleasant news indeed. If anyone in the seven kingdoms hated Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, as much as the Prince did, than it was his scarred little brother.

"Fate is smiling on me today," The Prince said grinning wickedly. "The enemies of the Lannisters are my friends indeed."

"Fate always smiles on you," Mory said. "I had a little birdie tell me that the Hound fled the battle of the Blackwater and went to Sansa late in the night. He went into her rooms, and it was quite a while before the two of them emerged, killing all in their path to get out of the castle."

"Secret lovers?" Oberyn asked curiously.

"Can't truly say," Mory answered honestly.

"You have done well my friend. Go to the brothel and tell them I sent you," The Prince said smiling. "You will be well taken care of."

"You are too kind Prince Oberyn," Mory said with a sly smile.

"We need to send a message to the King in the North, and you will keep me informed about anything else you hear of Sansa and the Hound."

* * *

Sansa came to and it seemed like the world was quaking beneath her. The wind was whipping through her hair and she felt dizzy and confused. She opened her eyes to see nothing but night and trees all around her. It took her a bit to realize she was on Stranger, and they were making some kind of mad dash. Blood stained arms were around her, holding onto the reins. Her stomach rolled and she was suddenly afraid she was going to sick up right on the back of the horse's head.

"Stop," She said weakly, but Sandor must not have heard her. "Stop!" She cried a second time, her voice cracking in the effort. He pulled back on the reins and slowed the great beast down until they came close enough to a stop. Sansa couldn't wait to be helped down, and slid off the horse ungracefully, twisting her ankle painfully when she landed. She couldn't hold back anymore, and her nice warm meal from earlier came up with a vengeance. She felt like she couldn't stop, her entire stomach was going to come out her throat.

"First one's the hardest," She heard Sandor say. She felt him standing behind her, and after a moment pulling her hair back for her as well so she didn't make a mess of it. Tears started streaming down her face, and soon her body was convulsing even while she continued to get sick.

"I had to," She wept out. "I didn't want to."

"I know you didn't little bird, but you saved my life," He said to her, though she didn't believe it for a second. He probably could have still managed without her.

Her stomach calmed eventually, but the shaking did not stop and tears were coming down in rivets without her permission. She looked down at her hands and noticed they were coated in blood, and it made her retch, though there was nothing left to come up. She saw the tip of Sandor's boot as he leaned down to press something into her hands. She was expecting the cursed drink skin, but found she was holding a small silver flask instead.

"It will help, but small sips. It'll knock you right outta yer boots," He warned her.

She snatched up the flask and put it to her lips with vigor. Anything to wash the taste out of her mouth, anything to help her forget the blood on her hands. She took two huge gulps, ignoring the horrible burn of it down her throat. She took a breath and then took two more.

"Enough," Sandor said going to grab the flask from her, but she swatted his hand away as she kept downing the contents. "Sansa enough!" He said and truly snatched it from her, taking a sip for himself as he watched her cough and sputter.

"How did we get here?" She asked as she tried to stand and move away from the mess she had made on the ground. Getting to her feet was a mistake, she had forgotten about the swelling of her ankle, and the world span sporadically about her.

"Easy there," He said grabbing her, and moving her a bit away to sit in the grass. "You fainted after, and I had to get us out of there before someone came up to check what happened. I locked our rooms as we left, but that blood will seep through the floor before long."

"You carried me out of there and no one said anything?" She asked, her words slurring a bit.

"No one even saw, lucky for us while we were fighting upstairs there was a bar fight downstairs. They might not find the bodies till morning," He told her, taking another sip from the flask.

"I killed him," She said dazedly.

"Aye, you did a right good job," He said laughing.

"It's not funny!" She yelled at him, flailing at him wildly from her sitting position. She felt her fist connect with something, and the more he laughed at her the more enraged she became. "I hate you!"

"You hate me, you hate my horse, why are you even travelling with us?" He asked sarcastically, but then pinned her hands to her sides as she connected hard with his face. "Quit it girl or I'll lose my temper!" He hissed at her. The fight went out of her slowly, and soon she was weeping again and uncontrollably. She leaned forwards and wrapped her arms around his neck, crying right onto the front of his linen shirt. For a moment she had shocked him enough that he didn't do anything, but after a few seconds he stroked her back, relaxing into the unexpected touch. If she wouldn't have been in shock and on her way to being ridiculously drunk, she would have noticed the tremor in his hands, and how erratically his heart was beating.

* * *

He eventually got Sansa to stop crying, and back on Stranger so they could put a bit more distance between the hamlet and themselves as possible. He had to hold her tightly as they rode as the drink he had given her made her sway from side to side. It was the closest thing to bliss he had ever felt in his entire life. He knew she was frightened, that she was on edge, but she had done so much for him in one night, that he was hers now. Completely, even if this was the closest they could ever be. He didn't care.

She seemed not to have believed him when he told her that she saved his life, but she truly had. Right before Lukas fell from his back, the edges of his vision had begun to blur. He had been so afraid that he had failed her, that he would die and she would be taken back to her hell. But then she did something he never thought she could do, she killed for him, and it stole his heart away, whatever that was worth. Even all the moments after cemented the fact, the peak of it when she had fallen against him weeping. That she had felt comfortable enough to do that, the fact that she trusted him enough to hold her like that. It was just everything, and it was still the only thing he could think of. His hands were still shaking. He wanted more, yearned for it, but this would be enough for him. Enough to sustain him, keep him going.

They stopped for the night after about another hour of hard riding. He could tell when he pulled Stranger to a stop Sansa was beyond drunk. She looked at him after he dismounted, laughing and giggling, then practically jumped into his arms to get off the horse.

"I bet your sword is heavier than me," She said giggling as he set her on her feet and went to hitch the horse up and remove the saddle.

"Could be," He said to humor her as he went about his work. He expected her to stay put, but she followed him about like a pup.

"Will you teach me to use a sword now that I'm blooded?" She asked.

He turned and looked at her sharply, making sure she was okay. She seemed to be laughing though, and most likely wouldn't remember having this conversation come morning.

"Seems you got over that fast," He said while hefting the saddle off of Stranger. He looked at her again and saw her eyes well up in tears. "Shit," He cursed himself.

"You think I don't even care I killed him!" She accused, covering her face with her hands.

"I think no such thing, go sit down you're drunk," He ordered her.

"Are you going to sit with me? I'm hungry," She proclaimed.

"Go get some wood," He told her, trying to ignore her as best he could. He would cave to her otherwise and knew something would happen that she would regret if he did.

"Come with me, I'm scared," She said, but was giggling again.

"Get off my ass woman," He said to her.

"You're really mean," She replied, but when he looked over his shoulder he could see that she had gone to do something. Whether that was to get the wood or not he couldn't tell, but at least he could catch his breath for a second. He got her out some bread, which he figured was the only thing she would be able to stomach right now either way, and set up the bed rolls as well. He waited for Sansa to return, patiently at first. After too long though he was worried she had completely wondered off, and huffed off after her into the woods.

"Sansa?" He called loudly, worry filling him when no reply came. "Seven hells girl where did you go?" He shouted. He cursed himself again and again as he looked for her. He had given her something strong in hopes it would make her fall asleep and forget she had just killed her first man. It seemed she had a higher capacity than he realized, and she was probably off prancing about somewhere, not thinking about how dangerous it could be.

"Sansa!" He called again for the twentieth time.

"Come find me!" She finally replied, and the weight that lifted off his shoulders was incredible. He was more than a little irritated by now however.

"Damn you girl this isn't a game!" He called back to her, trying to figure out where her voice was coming from.

"If it was, you'd be losing," She hailed.

"I'm going fucking mad," He muttered to herself. He knew he had to keep her talking, but he felt like such a buggering idiot. Running around the woods, playing a drunken game with a half grown woman. "I'm gonna skin you alive when I find you!" He threatened, hoping maybe it would scare her enough to bring her out of hiding.

"Liar," She called out, her laughter ringing like bells all around him.

"Don't test me," He shouted, but truthfully, as stupid as he felt, he couldn't be truly angry at her. After all, it was his own fault this situation was occurring.

"I'll do whatever I wish with you," She sang out teasingly. He found himself smiling at that, letting the feeling ripple along his body. She had no idea what she was doing to him.

He heard the sound of splashing water, and her cursed laughter. He had to steel himself for a moment, but he was sure he knew now exactly what she was doing. He walked to the sound slowly, trying to gain some sense of composure.

"I can hear you," She said. "Come get me!"

_Fuck. _When he finally saw her, he became breathless. Surely this was a dream, surely this couldn't be truly happening. It was like something out of a gods be damned story, a beautiful maiden, swimming nude in the moonlight, stars shining above her like jewels. She was in water only as deep as her waist, her bare torso exposed to him unabashedly. She had no shame as she looked at him, smile lighting up her face, cheeks flushed from drink. He had never seen anything so ravishing, and he knew he was staring, but couldn't stop.

"What are you waiting for?" She asked him. "Come in!" She demanded, giggling and going to float on her back in the water. Sandor couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Alabaster skin glowing, full breasts shining, and the slightest peek of her lady's place. The sudden arousal that coursed through his veins was wicked. He was powerless. He took a couple steps towards the water, only stopping when he nearly tripped over something. He finally tore his eyes away from her and looked down to see he had stepped on her clothing, and that she had stolen his silver flask. He cursed himself again, knowing he should demand that she come back to camp and sleep, she was in no right state of mind right now.

He sat hard on the ground, grabbing the flask and downing the rest of it's contents in one gulp, refusing to look back up at her right this moment. Everything in him wanted to go into that water with her, to not care about it and have what he wanted. He knew though that he would be a true dog if he did something like that to her while she was drunk.

"Are you ignoring me?" He heard her voice, much closer this time, and looked up to see her standing in the shallows of the pond, fully body exposed. He swore and looked back down at his hands, which still had blood on them, dried long since.

"Sansa you are not acting like a lady," He said, trying to tap into her deeper sensibility.

"I'm not a lady anymore," She told him, and he heard her get out of the water. Saw out of the corner of his eye, her pale form running past him. He stole another glance and saw her spinning in slow circles with her arms outstretched. He kept his back to her and felt his cock twitch at just the burning image of her body in his mind. She laughed again and said, "I'm a warrior now! A wolf! A wood nymph!" He saw her streak past him again and jump into the water. When she surfaced she spit a bit of water at him. "I'm a water faerie."

"You're drunk is what you are," He growled. "You should get some sleep. You've been through a lot today."

"I had to wash it away Sandor," She said, his name bringing him even closer to caving to her inebriated will. "I had to wash away the blood, and Joffrey's touch, and …and ..and the pain."

"Sansa it's time to go now," He said, the drink starting to set in on him as well. Soon it would be dangerous for her to be this close to him the way she was, and the way he was feeling.

"Yes, let's go. Let's sail to the Free Cities," She said and emerged from the water again, kneeling in front of him. Laying her wet hands upon his bloodied ones. The touch sent shock waves through him, sent heat into his loins. Just the simple touch. His head was swimming. He wanted her so badly.

"Let go," He tried to say to her, but came out more as a pleading moan.

"Think of it," She said, scooting closer, driving him wild. Her nipples, hard and standing out, brushed against his arm. "We could be anything in the Free Cities, a new life away from all this war."

"Put on your fucking clothes," He said, reaching for them. She slapped them out of his hands, hard.

"I don't want to!" She cried. "Listen to me! We will never make it to Robb, we need to be smart!"

"There is no 'we' Sansa, this isn't permanent. They beat into you so hard that you'll never see home, but I will get you there," He said to her. She cupped the good side of his face, making him look her in the eyes.

"I've seen the way you look at me," She said.

"Please stop," He said begging her, crumbling at her touch. Knowing exactly what she was going to say to him and knowing there was no way he could hide it. He had been enamored with her since she was a budding girl, and now she was a she-wolf, teetering on the edge of womanhood. She made him so weak the more fierce she grew. Soon she wouldn't be his little bird anymore, but a bright goddess full of fire, and he would never be able to touch her.

"Kiss me," She whispered.

"No," He told her weakly, even as they both leaned into each other.

"I know what you want," She told him. "I'll give you what you want."

He almost kissed her then, almost took her right there in the night, but he couldn't. Not because he didn't want to, because it was everything he wanted. But not like this. He wanted her to truly want him, sober and in the daylight. Not after her trauma from earlier and her blood was up. He knew better than that, and that if he took her here, fucked her under the moonlight, she would wake in the morning and despise him. Despise herself. Though it pained him, he broke away from her, standing and turning away. He heard her whimper at his departure, but couldn't look at her again. His manhood was hard and his will was soft and it took everything he had to turn from her.

"I'm going back to camp, you would be wise to do the same," He said with his back to her.

"I know this is what you want," She said angrily. "It's what I-"

"It's what you want?" He asked, his anger finally taking control. At least that feeling was familiar. "You expect me to believe that? Get the fuck outta here before you hurt yourself."

"I chose this," She told him, though her voice was shaking. "You're going to deny me?"

"I don't want you girl," He roared at her, lying painfully. She took one look at his crotch and laughed outright.

"Liar," She accused him for the second time this night.

"Why are you pushing this?" He demanded to know.

"Because I want you," She told him, though he knew she couldn't mean it.

"I'm a fucking monster Sansa, you don't even know me. What would your Lady mother say? What would the bloody King in the North think? I'm twice your buggering age and ugly as all seven hells. What is it? Because I showed you kindness when you knew none? Soon enough you'll be home in Winterfell with every handsome and kind lordling lining up to have you, and a beauty to rival any in the kingdom. Don't waste your time on dogs like me little bird," He said to her, the anger in him, the hatred he had for himself, just barely maintained.

"You defied Joffrey with me. _You_ did! You saved my life, you gave me freedom. …I saved your life. I killed a man to protect you and now I'm choosing to be intimate with you and you push me aside?" She asked, hot tears coming to her eyes.

"You don't even understand what you're trying to give me," He snapped at her.

"I'm not a child!" She screamed.

"Then don't act like one!" He shouted right back. "If this is real, and I'm not in some fucking dream right now, then come to me tomorrow. Come to me when the sun is on my scars and your pretty little head isn't spinning. You'll see how much you fucking _want_ me then."

He started walking back to camp, and heard her shouting at him from behind, but didn't dare look at her again.

* * *

Sansa sat by the pond for a long time. Every thought in her head wouldn't make sense to her, though they all made perfect sense. The world swayed and felt wonderful, but her heart was aching, her body starting to shiver. She couldn't stop thinking of the way he watched her. The way he looked at her like she was more wondrous than anything in existence. She had been teasing him she knew, but she hadn't cared. There was a thrill in showing someone who wanted you the bareness of your body. She had been surprised by how badly she wanted him to touch her. Maybe it was her vanity, trying to bring a cold and ruthless man such as the Hound to heel, but she couldn't quite be sure it was just that. She might be drunk, but she never felt more honest in her life.

She didn't have to hide anymore. To mask her face against lions, and pretty her words for the madness of the royalty. She no longer had to have no friends. She had one now, one who she knew well wasn't satisfied with just friendship. She didn't have to be a lady anymore, and with blood on her hands now, she would never feel like one again. She was a true wolf now, and she wanted to run wild into the night. She never wanted to set foot in a castle again. She never wanted to be prisoner to someone else's will. Sansa Stark though, would always be privy to the will of others. Her life could never truly be her own, but she hungered for it to be that way.

She remembered time and time again how Arya used to tell their father that she didn't want to be a lady. She didn't want to marry a lord, and bear his children, and run his house. There was a time when that was all that Sansa wanted, but she saw the folly in it now. She finally understood Arya's desire to be free and make a life that was her own. Sansa wanted that too now, wanted to be her own person. It was for that reason she kept begging to go to the Free Cities. She could be anyone there. Though her heart broke for home, to see her family again, she knew it would never be how it was. Her brother was King now, and would marry her off to secure some alliance or another. She missed them so sorely she felt it in her bones, but she was truly afraid of going home.

She got dressed slowly, and with more difficulty than if her head wasn't spinning. She didn't want to wear her stupid dress, but she wouldn't torture Sandor anymore by returning without it. But the temptation to do so was great. She wanted to watch him obey her every whim, and tonight proved that she could. She could probably make him do whatever she wished. Right now her body wished to be touched, to be caressed by a man. Never before had her desire been so deep. Perhaps it was watching him wanting her that set her off. The telltale sign of his erection through his breeches. She giggled at the thought, and was shocked to find out she wanted to see what it looked like.

"I have a crush on the Hound," She said out loud to the trees, and snorted in laughter. Maybe it really would be a good idea to go to sleep. Her thoughts truly were making her crazy, and she had just told the forest one of the deepest secrets in her heart. A secret she barely knew she kept, but knew to be true just the same.

It was something that had occurred slowly, with all his small brute acts of kindness in her darkest of times. She used to imagine him riding off with her and rescuing her, her true knight, and in a way he had done just that. She knew he was rough, and scary at times, but the glimpses she got of the man he was with her, when he let the slightest of his guard down, it was enough for her to grow affections for him. He thought there was no way she could want him, and true enough maybe when she was sober she wouldn't want him to make love to her, but she still wanted to kiss him. She would go to him in the morning and kiss him, and he would know that she wasn't a liar.

* * *

**xoxo LadySerenade**


	5. Chapter Four: Giving In

**Disclaimer in the Intro**

**Author's Note: Sorry on the delay, work has been a nightmare! This is a smut chapter so prepare for that as well as my awkwardness in writing it! Hope you enjoy it, working on the next chapter now! Remember reviews feed my soul, no pressure though. xoxo **

* * *

**Chapter Four: Giving In**

Sansa woke up with many aches. Her ankle swollen, her knees bruised, and her stomach feeling so hollow she could swallow her bedroll whole. She moaned slightly as she sat up, trying hard to remember the night before. She remembered bits and pieces, the most important parts she supposed. Killing the knight that had found them, twisting her ankle as she fell off Stranger, and swimming naked in front of Sandor Clegane. _Oh gods_, she could die from the shame. How he had outright rejected her. Told her that she didn't know what it meant to do what she had wished for so bad last night. She looked over to where he was sleeping, the ruined side of his face towards her. She felt a stab of anger at the way he had treated her, told her not to be a child. He had been wrong though, it was morning now, and she still felt the same. _"Come to me when the sun is on my scars.."_

She wouldn't go to him right away. First she cleaned up the camp and set up a small fire. She then set some rocks by it to warm them up, and set the bread and some dried meat on the rocks to warm up as well. The only things they had to drink made her sick to smell, so she emptied out his drink skin and went back into the woods to find the water from the night before, hoping it would be clean enough to drink.

The pool where she had swam was clear as crystal, she could see the rocks along the bottom. She thought that was safe as anything and rinsed out the skin before filling it up and going back to the camp. She blushed as she looked at the pool of water again, remembering how delightful it had felt on her bare skin.

When she returned the Hound was still sleeping, and she thought to let him. The only task that was truly left would be to get Stranger ready for the road. The horse could use a good brushing. She approached the saddle bags first, staying far away from the beast as she rustled through them to find a brush, which surprisingly wasn't too hard to find. When she approached the horse again, she held out her palm for him to inspect, ready to snatch it back in a moment's notice. The horse didn't try and bite her however, probably having grown accustomed to her scent, he instead nudged her hand. She noticed that his mouth seemed to be frothing.

"Poor thing, are you thirsty Stranger?" She asked the big horse. She knew he wouldn't answer but she imagined that he was begging for a drink. "I can take you to water if you be nice," She said to him sternly.

She untied the knot and held onto the lead rope for dear life, expecting the horse to take off running as soon as she unhitched him. He did no such thing, and let her lead him to the pool, only tugging on the rope occasionally to test how well she had a hold on him. She didn't know exactly why, but it made her exceptionally happy to see that the horse wasn't trying to bite her arm off, of kick her in the face. That changed however when the horse spotted water. He surged forwards, and with Sansa holding onto the rope so hard, sent her flat on her face and dragging behind him in the grass for a moment before she had sense enough to let go.

"You bloody donkey!" She shouted after him, but sat there in the grass while the horse took it's leisure at the pool. She was in no hurry to get back to camp, knowing that Sandor would most likely sleep the morning away. So eventually she kicked off her boots and went to join the horse at the water, sitting far enough away that she could sprint if he suddenly acquired the need to trample her. The water was cool this early in the morning, and helped the aching in her grossly swollen ankle.

She thought she would have more time to enjoy herself before she would have to face him, but not five minutes there and she heard a roar into the forest that sent the birds scattering through the canopy. It was the Hound, there was no doubting that, for Stranger responded to the sound and took off running back towards camp.

"Hey wait!" She tried to call after him, but wasn't able to get up in time to grab his lead. She cursed herself and grabbed her boots, walking back to the camp slowly and with care of her weakened ankle and tender feet. How had she gotten so out of touch? When had she become such a priss? She could remember, very distantly, a time when her and Robb had been running through the godswood at Winterfell, barefoot and hiding from their mother. She had been so free back then, so uncaring of the world she let herself get caught up in. The older she got the more she thought she knew, the more of a lady she had tried to become. Then Arya had become the wild one, the true wolf of the family, and Sansa grew into a stupid flower. Sit pretty Sansa, talk kindly Sansa, do everything everyone wants you to do, and don't question it. Well she was beyond questions now.

She marched into camp quietly, Sandor glaring at her from where he was putting the saddle onto the horse. All her sudden bravery from the night before melted under that look. The words she wanted to say burned to ash on her tongue. There would be no kissing him today, no admission of her girlish fantasies. Because that's all they were, fantasies. He had plainly told her that he didn't want her, he had denied staying with her in the North, had told her there was no 'we'. _Just being a pretty little idiot again Sansa, the Hound could never return your affections. _

"Where were you?" He asked her eventually. She didn't feel like talking anymore, and retrieved the food that had been warming by the small fire, going over and handing him some. He snatched it and they returned to their customary silence, which stretched on. Even on the road they remained silent. They didn't talk for days on their travels. Neither of them had anything to say, but everything had still been left unsaid. The night in the woods seemed like a dream to both of them.

* * *

"An inn!" Was the first words the little bird cried out in days. It was still some distance off, but the gentle glow of light was obvious even from here, as well as it's tidy little stable and sign out front. It was set at the beginning of a small dirt path that probably led to another small hamlet or town. As much as he wanted a good rest and a strong ale, he knew better than to let them stop again.

"We're not going," He told her sternly.

"We still have our veils," She said vehemently, "No one would even know!"

"Just like no one was supposed to know we were in Dorenville, or the last inn we went to," He growled at her. "Trouble has a way of finding us."

"There is no us," Sansa said quietly, but he still heard. It hurt him to hear her say it, but he knew she spoke the truth. Whatever feelings she had been nursing for him had been stomped out by his rejection of her and by all the time they spent studiously ignoring each other. It was for the best, he kept telling himself, but didn't mean it. He missed her easy chirping, the smile in her eyes. He should have been honest with her. Not that he lied, but he knew there would always be things he kept from her, to protect her.

"We're in the middle of nowhere," Sansa said, trying again. "We're likely to be the only people there."

"No," He said firmly.

"Are you afraid?" She asked laughing, taunting him. She was trying to bait him into giving into her, but she would have to use better tricks than that.

"Scared as a babe," He told her sarcastically.

"Why are you so determined to make me miserable?" She finally snapped, trying to scoot away from him on the saddle but having no room to really do so. The motion only brought her farther back to him, till her backside grinded against him and she let out a startled cry. His member stirred at the touch, but he tried to push the thoughts from his mind. The thoughts of how perfect she had looked that night in the water. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Why are you so determined to get us killed?" He finally responded to her, trying to talk rather than think. "Are you so eager to bloody your hands again?"

"You don't have to be so nasty all the time," She said, trying again to put distance between them but only making the same motion again. He leaned in close to her ear.

"Stop doing that," He told her, unsure if she was doing it on purpose to enrage him or not. The brazen way she laughed at him made him think that was just the kind of trick it was. They were getting impatient with each other, too much time spent together with too much tension between them. They were both ready to kill each other, if either of them could ever find the kind of strength to do so.

"Why should I stop when it brings you so much pleasure?" She asked with a hint of venom. "I can feel your manhood in my back."

He laid his hand on her waist then, pulling her taught against him. His rage was swelling, among other things, and he had utterly lost all his restraint with her. He brought his lips to her ear again, growling into it. "Take a nice long feel lass, remember that I am a man. One perfectly capable of snapping your pretty little neck if you don't mind yourself."

"Don't threaten me," She said indignantly, but making no move to pull further away. He pulled her even tighter against him, savoring the feeling, the pressure of her on his aching cock. She let out a gasp that had nothing to do with fear.

"When did you become so fearsome little bird," He asked her, his voice dripping with lust.

"I'm learning from the best," She said, breathy, with her chest starting to rise and fall harshly. She turned at him over her shoulder, her hair tickling his neck. "Take me to the inn Sandor," she told him this time, rather than ask.

The sound of his name purring from her lips, the feel of her between his hands, it was nearly sending him over the edge right then. He was throbbing for her, seeing her glistening body in his mind, the feel of her bareness against his arm. The way she had asked him to kiss her. The way right now, she was starting to tremble beneath his touch.

They went to the Inn.

* * *

Sansa lay awake a long time, watching the burning embers in the hearth till her eyes saw dancing shapes. She had thought, after earlier, he would have come to her, that he would finally give in and acknowledge how desperately he wanted her. But that didn't happen, not at all. They had checked into the empty inn, bathed and ate, and didn't see each other all the while. She realized that while a bed felt nice, she felt constricted being indoors. She wasn't able to see the stars, or smell the fresh air, or hear Sandor snoring silently a few feet away.

"Go to him," She whispered in the dark. She'd been thinking it for the better part of an hour. Clearly he wasn't going to be the one that came to her, and she couldn't deny knowing the reasons why. He wanted to protect her, thinking that taking her maidenhead would ruin her in the eyes of her family and that no one would wanted her again. What a foolish idea. No one even had to know, and if they did, then so what? Nobody had done half so much for her in all her time in King's Landing than the Hound had. He would be dead if he went back south, for deserting and taking her away from all of that. He risked everything for her, and every night in her dreams she was with him. Sailing to the Free Cities with him, kissing him under the hot sun when it shone brightly on his scars. She blushed in the dark. She dreamed of other things with him too.

She was a wolf, she had nothing to be afraid of. It was what she told herself when her bare feet hit the cold floor. She had been sleeping bare, not having thought to bring or buy night clothes, so she took a sheet from the bed and wound it about herself. She padded slowly to her door and opened it, looking out into the torch lit hall to find it empty. There was only one other room in the inn, directly across from hers. She laid her hands on it softly, and noticed there was still light pooling from underneath it. _He was still awake_. Her resolve almost left her, almost told her to go back to sleep and quit being foolish, but her want for him took over, making her knock three times softly on the door.

"Go away," He shouted from within.

She turned to go, but before she could realize it again she was knocking, harder and louder this time. When he made no move to answer, and said nothing more, she pounded on the door with vigor. It was apparently enough to anger him into answering because she heard his boots thundering across the floor. The door opened with enough force to swish her hair forwards and tug at the sheet she was wearing. She looked up at him timidly, watching and enjoying as he took her in. His eyes melted from anger and burned with something deeper and undeniable. The look alone sent a rush of wetness between her legs.

"What are you doing here little bird?" He asked her, his voice deep and rasping, sending shivers down her spine.

"I…I.." She stammered, unable to form her words.

"Say it," He demanded, his eyes boring into her intensely, making her knees weak.

"I wanted a kiss," She said, hating how her voice shook so. He smirked at her and placed an arm on the doorframe, leaning towards her. She could smell the wine on his breath, feel the heat off his body. She could see the way his hardened chest pushed against his shirt. She desperately wanted to touch him, to feel his scars and caress them.

"What else do you want?" He asked her, eyes glittering. It made her feel wanton, and she let the sheet slide down her body slowly, till her chest heaved naked before him. He grabbed her wrist gently and pulled her into the room, slamming the door behind her.

They came crashing together like waves upon the stones. Her arms flew up around his neck and she pressed her body into his as their mouths met with all the eagerness of first time lovers. He tasted sweet and hot, and of all the times she had ever imagined kissing the Hound, nothing compared to the real thing. To be properly kissed by him was to be devoured, to lose herself, to crumble in his arms. Those strong hard arms that kept her levitated in place, unmoving and unwilling to. She couldn't catch her breath, she was so hungry for him, tangling her hands in his dark hair and grinding her hips against his. A moan escaped his throat so full of lust that she was sure her lady's place was slick with want of him. She could feel him too, hardening beneath her.

He set her on her feet long enough to tear his shirt off his back, and she stared at him in open wonder, letting her hands go to him. She ran them over his muscled chest and hardened abdomen, feeling his breath quicken and hitch under her touch. He was such a big man, so seasoned in battle. It was better than all her girlish fantasies. He was a real man who had worked hard his entire life, and his body was a testament to it. She had never had something so pleasant to touch. She lightly dragged her nails over his shoulders and down his back. The touch sent him to his knees before her, and he reached out one strong arm to pull her in closer. He laden her stomach with kisses, her hips, her thighs, and then he dipped down lower, placing his lips to her dampened curls, kissing her in her most intimate of places. She cried out, unused to the foreign touch and feeling of a man tasting her there.

"Easy little bird," He rasped against the soft flesh of her inner thigh. She tried to open her mouth to respond, but then his tongue caressed her slit and she was lost in a storm of desire. She never knew being with a man could feel so good. She tried to order her thoughts together, but then his tongue softly touched on her sensitive rosebud and the words she had been about to say turned into moans.

"My name," She managed to cry out. "Say my name."

She felt him moan into her cunt and it started a pressure in her, a humming of her body that was all too ready to sing. She could feel weakness in her legs anew, and was afraid she would crumble to the ground. His strength was soon all that held her up and he was licking and sucking and nibbling on her lady's place, making her soaking and trembling.

"Sansa," He whispered to her like a secret.

It sent her over the edge, and suddenly her whole body shook violently and she thought for a second she could see stars. The pleasure rocked her entire body till she slumped forwards against him, digging her nails into his shoulders in fear of falling over. He gently stroked her back as she came down from her peak, but when she started to catch her breath he threw her over his shoulder and carried her to the bed. He laid her down upon it with a gentleness she would not expect him to have, and she was willing to let him do everything he wished with her. Sansa craved more.

* * *

He had been in torment all night and set to drinking as soon as he had been to the room that he claimed for the evening. He had to stay away from her, needed time to clear his head. The wine had no such ideas, and soon he was drowning in thoughts of her, unable to find air, unable to get relief. He wanted her perfection. He longed for her kindness and her new found ferocity. He wanted every part of her, his lady wolf. To feel her small hands on his skin, to taste her sweet lips. When the pounding had come to his door he flew into a rage. Wanted to throttle whoever dared disturb his trance of her.

He had never expect Sansa to be standing there, naked as her nameday and wrapped in a sheet. He already knew he had lost this battle, that he would not be able to deny her again, and gods curse it he had no desire to. He wanted to ravage her, damning them both in the process. How would her pack ever let her rejoin them after she had been ruined by a dog? He didn't care. If they turned her out, he would protect her, from this moment on his entire life would be Sansa's to do with as she will. Though she was the maid, he found he felt like it was him giving himself for the first time.

He hadn't wanted to fuck her like a whore, so he took as much time as his urgency demanded. She brought him to his knees and so he kissed her cunt until he made her sing for him. It had been so easy, she had been so on fire. Soaking his face with her wetness. The way her body trembled and gave way, the way she demanded he say her name. All his senses burned at her touch, Sansa, the fire he feared most of all.

And now here she was, lying on the bed underneath him, looking at him like he was her knight in shining armor. He felt her hands flutter about his body, not sure where to touch first but wanting to touch it all. The hunger in her eyes drove him wild, that the hunger was truly for him was something he could scarcely believe. How could this be his little bird? This woman who was putting her mouth all over his body and shifting her hips subtly beneath him. He had misjudged her, thought her silly and flippant. He hadn't realized she was such a survivor, waiting to be brought back to the wild, to be unleashed once more and returned to the North. She would never chirp for him again, but tonight he hoped to make her howl.

"Tell me what to do," She said, shy and bold all at once, as her hands went to undo the laces on his breeches. He didn't stop her, just watched as she deftly undid them, pulling them down to his thighs. He was impatient with the rest, moving to the edge of the bed to finish undressing before turning back to her, only to find her staring at him wide eyed and flushing. "It's so big," She whispered lightly stroking his tip and making it twitch towards her. She giggled madly and touched it again, soliciting a groan from him.

"Don't be shy girl," Was all he could manage to say as he watched her with as much curiosity as she was using exploring him. She gently ran her finger tips down his length and back again, making a gentle circle around the head. He was so hard for her it was painful, an ache only her sweet warmth could satisfy.

"It's so hot," She said giggling, taking hold of him a bit more firmly. "W..what should I do with it?" She asked innocently, whilst being anything but innocent.

"Lie back," He told her, not sure he could take much more without being inside her. He needed to feel her tight around him, having desired it for so very long. Now it was practically dangling before him, hot and wet and begging for attention.

Sansa lay back slowly, never taking her eyes off him as he positioned himself above her. Those small hands ran up and down his arms, over his shoulders and down his back. When he hesitated she pulled him down for a kiss, biting on his lower lip for a second and making him nearly out of his mind with want of her.

"Will it hurt?" She asked against his mouth, her voice shaking slightly.

"A little," He warned her. "Are you sure this is what you want Sansa?" He asked her again, so there would be no mistake. The wine might be making his head and senses on edge, but he needed a sober confession of her desires. If he woke up in the morning and she was disgusted with him, he was not sure what madness that would drive him too.

She looked him straight in the eyes, and he felt her tiny hands grab his cock and lead her to her opening. She hitched one leg up behind him and he had no will any more. He was all hers. He held those stunning blue eyes as he dipped his head in, making her sigh so lovely. He eased into her slowly, making her cry out anyways. He was trying to be a gentle as he could be, in fact this was as gentle as he had ever been with a woman. Sansa deserved that and more, she deserved to be laid down on a bed of roses.

He could feel her shaking beneath him, and a small tear came out of those wonderful eyes, making him want to stop. "Am I hurting you?" He asked her, his rasped voice sounding strained with the effort it was taking not to bury himself in her.

"No," She lied, keeping her eyes locked on his. She put her hands on his backside and pushed him down until he gave way and fully sheathed himself inside her. She let out a cry at that and leaned forwards, sinking her teeth into his shoulder. He put a hand behind her neck and kept her there, urging her to let out any pain she had on him. He enjoyed it either way, and was trying to ease her mind. After a bit though she let go, sighing back into the pillows with his blood in her teeth. It made him ache more, wanting his wild wolf girl to tear him to shreds, to devour him whole. He took himself out of her slowly, enjoying every gasp she made, every moment of her nails raking against his back. When he pushed back into her, he was rewarded with a guttural laugh, and a look of wild desire in her eyes.

"Oh Sandor," She said with a sigh, placing her hands on his hips to guide his pace. He would do whatever she wanted, whatever he was capable of to please her. She led him in and out of her slowly at first, getting used to the pain of it all, till it gave way to something more, and she was urging him faster and faster. Her tightness was gripping at him, he had never had the pleasure of enjoying a maid before, and he could hardly stand the way every part of her body seemed to be clinging to him.

Her moans shortly turned to screams into the night, as she sang out his name and clutched desperately to his body. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, and thrusting into her harder with every turn, enjoying the way her meekness was shed in the light of lustful abandon. Every time she shouted his name he came closer and closer, feeling the familiar pressure building inside of him and waiting for release. She started grinding her hips into him harder and harder, and he knew she was close too. Soon he felt her quaking beneath him, and her cunt squeezed him so tightly he could barely maintain his motion. She howled out and bit down on the same part of his shoulder. It was too much for him, her exquisite peak, the pain of the bite, the pleasure of her cunt. He spilled his seed inside her, moments after she had her own pleasure. The intensity of it left him slack and weak, gasping for breath that did not want to come.

She stroked his back, like he had to her earlier, and cooed into his ear. He rolled off her when he was able and pulled her to his chest, holding onto her like she was more precious than life. Truth be told, to the Hound she was just that. They lay like that a while, contented in their silence for once, and happy to hold each other.

"Your heart beats so fast," She said softly as her hand was held over his heart. He wasn't sure what to say to her at first. He wasn't very good with words and probably never would be, but she deserved to know how much this meant to him. How it breathed life into every fiber of his being. How it made him weak and strong all at the same time.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time," He said eventually, not satisfied with the words in the least. She moved her position so she was mostly across his body and balanced her head up on her hand so she could look him in the face.

"I always thought you hated me," She said with a little smile on her face.

"That's what I wanted you to think," He told her back with a lazy smile.

"Why?" She asked him. "Why would you be so cruel to me? I used to yearn for you kindness, I used to feel safe when you were near."

"I know little bird," He told her, brushing her hair from her brow.

"You didn't answer my question, why did you want me to think you hated me?"

"So you wouldn't try and get closer to me," He replied honestly. "I knew you saw me as something I never could be to you. I had to hold you away, but I could never quite manage to _keep_ you away. I dreamt of you when I was awake and asleep. I never thought you thought of me as more than Joffrey's terrifying dog."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, then broke out in a dazzling smile, giggling a bit. "I did think that for such a long time. I was so scared of you," She said, meeting his eye. "Then after time you weren't so scary anymore, and I thought there was more to you than being the Hound. I dreamt of you too."

"Did you dream of me exactly how I am? Or more pretty like that bloody Knight of Flowers," He asked, trying to check his anger before it came out to play.

"Exactly as you are," She said, grasping his chin and forcing him to look at her. "I know you will never be kind and gentle and romantic. I'm not a girl anymore, and now you've fully made me a woman. I know you're not some flowery knight, you are more than that. You are strong, and loyal. You are honest and you don't care what anyone thinks of you. How I wish I could be like that," She said sighing dreamily. He could almost laugh at the thought of her wanting to be more like him. He felt so calm in her arms though, so at peace. Nothing could bother him right now, not truly. She stilled the raging storm within him.

"What are we going to do now Sansa?" He asked, gazing down at her.

"We are going to keep pushing North, and when we get there you will be mine. My sworn shield. I won't ever let you leave my side, do you understand that?" She asked, the fire in her eyes.

"Anything for you little wolf," he said, and she kissed him once more.


	6. Chapter Five: One with the Pack

**Disclaimer in the intro.**

**Author's Note: You will obviously be noting changes I made to the time line by the end of this chapter, and my omission of a character I didn't feel like adding into the story. Sorry about that! **

* * *

**Chapter Five: One with the Pack**

The last time Sansa had awakened happy and feeling completely at ease had been back in Winterfell, long before King Robert Baratheon had come calling. It was a strange feeling, to be so at peace, to feel so completely free. She let the sun tickle her eyes as she slowly opened them to the tiny room at the inn. It could have been a palace and made no difference, it felt luxurious to her. She looked next to her, Sandor was still sleeping soundly, his face taking on a softness this morning she never thought possible. The morning light shone brightly and fully on his scars, and she thought they were beautiful, if only because they were a part of him. She reached out and caressed his ruined cheek softly, kissing him on the forehead before getting out of the bed.

Her sheet from the night before was still on the floor, and she snatched it up quickly and wrapped herself in it before padding over to the door and easing it open. She looked and saw no one in the hall and so crept across to her own room so she could retrieve her clothing. Once the door was shut behind her, she dropped the sheet once more and spun around the room letting her hair fan our behind her. She felt so wonderful, if a bit sore, but it was a welcome pain for once. She looked down at her thin body, loving every inch of it as she never had before. Remembering how she had pleased him, how he had smiled at her, lusted for her, she would let him ruin her ten thousand times and never want to take it back. She felt reborn, and vowed she would be from now on. There was no more little bird, now she was a wolf and she would be fearsome, and loving, and kind. She would be wild and civilized, she would be protective and unafraid. She would be like her lady mother, she would resemble her passed stoic father. She would never be caged again.

A soft knock came to her door, too soft to have been Sandor's. She knew it must be the maid from the night before and called for her to wait just a moment as she hastily threw on her disguise. She answered the door with the hard eyes of her counter persona.

"You should have been here at dawn," She said from behind her veil, her accent on point. "I require breakfast be brought to me and my guard and serviced in his room, as soon as able. Don't just stand there girl, leave me now."

The maid looked startled and jumped to her orders, making Sansa snicker behind her veil. When the woman was out of sight Sansa gathered her limited things and made her way back to Sandor's room, letting herself in without knocking. She almost panicked when she noticed he wasn't in the bed, but she found him instead standing by the window, half dressed and scowling.

"I ordered food for us, to be brought here," She said softly, making him start and turn towards her. His face remained guarded though, and he didn't bother coming over to her, like she hoped he would. She took a couple hesitant steps towards him, but it was like he didn't notice her at all. "Is everything alright?" She asked instead of going over to him completely, like she wanted to.

"You weren't here when I woke," He said, though it was clear that wasn't completely it.

"I went to fetch my things," She said quietly.

"And how do you feel today, _Lady Sansa_," He asked her, his last words dripping with sarcasm. He was trying to bait her, and she wouldn't let him. She wouldn't let him have the thoughts she very well knew he was having. How could he possibly wake up angry? How could he possibly be angry with her after what they shared last night? She thought he would be all adoration and kisses.

"I feel perfectly wonderful," She said brightly, with no hint of anything but her true happiness. He glowered at her and said nothing as she set about the room gathering up their things so they could leave after they broke their fast. He seemed to get angrier as he watched her, and she was waiting for the initial explosion when the maid returned with their meal. "Put your veil on, and your shirt," Sansa snapped as she went to the door, taking her time opening it so he had time to conceal his face.

They started their meal off in a tension filled silence that started to ruin Sansa's mood as the minutes ticked by. There was no eye contact or civil pleasantries, and she tried to figure out over and over again where she had messed up. Was it really the fact that he had woken and she wasn't there? Was it something more? Did he regret that she came to him last night? Had he been truly drunk and perhaps not remembered? All the possibilities seemed worse than the last. She had to do something.

"Why are you angry with me?" She half shouted, causing them both to lock eyes.

"Angry with you?" He asked, leaning back in his seat with a cruel smirk. "I'm very contented with your services."

She slammed her hand down on the table hard enough to send it stinging. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare pretend last night was something cheap and disgusting!" She screamed at him.

"Then what was it Sansa? Something wonderful and pleasant and everything you ever dreamed?" He asked, the bitterness tainting his words with malice.

"Yes," She said, not averting her gaze. She couldn't let him win.

"I told you to come to me in the daylight, sober and wanting," He said to her, looking pointedly at the table.

"I was sober," She said, though she suspected he had meant it to be on both sides. "And the sun is on your scars now, shall I lay on the bed for you lover? Shall I bear myself to you again, only to have you try and make me regret it?"

"Seven hells girl, I'm not trying to make you regret anything!" He yelled at her. "I just know that-" He started again, but was cut off when she leapt to her feet, nearly knocking the table over.

"You don't know anything! Don't try and tell me you know what I want, that you know me!" She said, her rage boiling as hot as his. "Nobody knows me, let me make that clear to you. NOBODY! I don't even know who I am anymore. But I'm smart enough now to know what I want, free enough to make those decisions by myself. For once no one is telling me what to do or think, and if I do make a choice than I know it is mine alone and you will never tell me that you know it's something I don't want. Do you understand?" She fumed. When he didn't answer quickly enough she snapped again. "Do you understand?!"

"Alright little wolf," He said to her, his eyes and voice finally softening. "I just had to be sure."

"Good," She said awkwardly, sitting back down and turning back to her meal. It still went on in silence, but this time it was different. This time she was smiling, and he was watching her, and they were happy, at least for the moment.

* * *

"I hear voices," Sansa said, they had been on the road for a while now, she was dirty and wild looking, her smile piercing and feral.

"How many?" Sandor asked, coming to crouch next to her.

"At least four different men, and a woman," She said, her eyes taking on their icy hardness, a hardness that was all winter and Stark, a true Northern thing. "They're hurting her," She told him, putting her veil up and going to move closer until he laid a hand on her arm.

"It could be more than four men," He warned her. The piercing cry of the woman though made Sansa dart out of his grasp so fast he barely had time to blink. "Sansa!" He hissed, but she was moving away from him quickly and quietly, like a predator in the forest.

"I see lions," She said over her shoulder, and sure enough when the men came into view they were in the Lannister colors. They had skirted around Herranhal just yesterday, where Tywin Lannister was said to be roosting at present, his men were crawling all over these lands like parasites. They had been forced to stay away from anything that even looked civilized, they needed to stay safe now more than ever. Sansa seemed to have little care for her own safety at the moment, she was nearly behind one of the men now. A short rounded man who was laughing heartily as two of his fellows pinned down a woman in a torn black dress, a third man dangling above her.

Sandor crept closer, hand on hilt and ready to defend whatever mad thing Sansa was planning on doing. There was just the four of them, and he was sure with surprise on their side he could take them all out easily enough. It looked too late for the woman to truly be saved, but in the very least they could keep her alive, send her back to whatever backwoods town she came from. He watched his little wolf as she reached down and picked up a heavy stone, hurling it into the brush to the right of her. The men stopped for a moment, looking towards the noise in confusion.

"Go see what tha was Erol," One of the captors said. The fat little man grunted and went off to check out the noise. Sandor saw the flash of steel as Sansa pulled out her knife, he thought she would stalk in quietly, but she had other ideas. She let out a cry and leapt into the small clearing, burying her knife in the rapists back as the woman screamed in terror and the man howled in pain. The other two seemed confused at first, but let the woman go and went for their swords.

"Run," Sansa told the woman as she pulled her knife from the man's back and gave herself space from them. Sandor was there in an instant, never going to leave her to face battle alone.

"The fat one will be coming back," He told her quietly.

"I know," She responded, and moved to stand so they were back to back. He didn't give the rapists time to organize as he lunged forward, kicking the man aside who had already been stabbed. He locked swords with another as he heard the surprised gasp of the returning guard from behind him. He wanted to spare a glance to make sure Sansa could handle this, being new to the ways of killing to begin with, but soon heard the man crying out in pain, and his wolf's delightful laughter.

"Tywin Lannister will hear of this you foreign bastards!" One of the guards cried as he made a run for it. Sandor couldn't very well give chase with one guard still on him, he couldn't leave Sansa behind, but if the man got to Herranhal, it would be more than Lannisters they would have to worry on. He whistled for Stranger, and the horse came bounding out of the forest, loud as thunder.

"I got it," He heard Sansa cry. The horse slowed slightly when it got to them, rearing up and kickin the fat guard behind him, and letting Sansa crawl onto his back, which she still did with some difficulty. She kicked at the horse's sides and tore off after the running man, holding the horse around the neck with her skinny arms. Sandor had to have faith that Stranger would take care of her as he finished the last of the two men off easily enough.

He turned to see the other man, a slash across his face, and a stab wound to the shoulder. His head was dented in from where he took the kick and he was a gory bloody mess. The other two had had cleaner deaths. The last one would most likely be trampled to death. Sure enough, Sansa came trotting back a few minutes later, the man being dragged behind her on a rope connected to the saddle.

"Any sign of the woman?" Sandor asked, offering her a hand off the horse.

"No, hopefully she has enough sense to run home," Sansa said, slipping off the horse into Sandor's arms, pulling him down for a kiss before checking him for damage. He made sure she was alright too, checking her over thoroughly for anything that could have hurt her.

"Are you going to tell me why you attacked them?" He asked as he looted the bodies of the meager gold and weaponry they could use.

"They would have killed her," Sansa said simply as she wiped the blood off her hands on one of the men's cloaks. "It was the right thing to do."

"It was the unsafe thing to do Sansa," He told her as sternly as he dared. She had been flying into the strangest fits of rage over the past few days, small things setting her off, and as tough as he might be, he didn't like to upset her. Didn't want to ruin the fragile thing between them.

"They were Lannisters," She said again, leaning against a tree and tucking her knife back into her boot. She fixed him with a fiery look, loosening the veil from away from her mouth. Her smile was brilliant and menacing, seductive and wanting. "Come here," She ordered, putting her back to the tree and keeping a fist full of her skirt high and up around her waist. The pull of her was too strong for him to resist, and his further lecture on her safety was all but forgotten.

He went to her quickly, and was pulled into a wild kiss. She bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, then led his face to the dip of her pale neck, her veins pulsing with life. He kissed her there sweetly at first, then drew his teeth and let them glide along her milky skin, pulling and tasting her. She giggled and gasped, and let her hands go to the tops of his breeches, pulling the strings on them with knowing hands. He hadn't worn his armor in many days, favoring an old leather jerkin instead under his foreigners' disguise. She pulled this off him too, and hiked her skirts up around her waist, locking him in place with her legs around his own waist.

His member was hard with little provocation on her part, and she pulled him to her roughly, gasping out in delight when he entered her. His blood was still up from the fight, and he knew hers was too. He couldn't be slow and gentle with her this time, pulling at her hair and veil, pushing her back against the knotted surface of the tree. Her eyes were an inferno as she cried out and pushed her hips into his harder. Told him to go faster, panting and scratching, driving him mad. He knew he wouldn't last long with her like this, not when she was all savage and demanding. It undid him, made him weak before her like a green lad. He pulled out in time to spend himself against her thigh. His peak had come and gone and yet he was still hungry for her.

Sandor set her back on the ground, turning her around and bending her over again. She laughed lushly and pushed herself back against them, her white fingers digging into the bark of the tree. So he thrust into her a second time, his heart still beating so fast, his blood still bounding through him like a war drum. The dead bodies of the Lannister soldiers had quite the show that evening.

* * *

It was a surprisingly cool evening, and the prince lay in his lover's arms, contented and happy. He could lay there every night for all his days and would die a blissful man. He seemed to see less and less of her these days as business kept his mind and body active. Tonight though he had spent the better part of it, right here with her. Ellaria stroked his head softly, but came to a sudden halt when a knock came to the doors of her rooms. The only person who ever came calling on her so late was the man laying upon her breast right now.

Prince Oberyn rose from the bed and walked to the door, naked and uncaring. "Who goes there?" He called out, equal parts demanding and sarcastic.

"A message for you my Prince, from Mory," A voice on the other side called. The Prince opened the door to see Mory standing there himself, though there was parchment in his hands. Oberyn smiled brightly and invited him in, not bothering to cover himself or telling Ellaria to do the same. Mory seemed not to have noticed or cared.

"Sorry to come so late in the night, while you're keeping better company than I," Mory said, helping himself to a seat at a little window table, and pouring himself a cup of wine. Oberyn went back to the bed and sat with his back to Ellaria, who promptly started rubbing his shoulders.

"What is so important Mory?" The Prince asked, relaxing into his paramour's touch.

"From Robb Stark," The other man said seriously, holding up the folded parchment, the seal was still unbroken.

"Ellaria, would you give us a moment?" Oberyn asked her, not wanting her to know yet of this news. Though he trusted her with much, there were some matters that were his alone.

"I'll go draw us a bath my love," She said, ever trusting and loving, placing a kiss on his neck as she rose to leave. This time Mory watched her without shame.

"She knows not of your plans with the Starks?" Mory asked, coming back to the present.

"She will know when it is time for her to know," Oberyn said, unsmiling. "Read the letter."

Mory swallowed nervously and broke the seal, skimming the first couple lines before reading aloud. "Prince Oberyn, I cannot tell you what happy news you have given my mother and I, she weeps with joy over hearing it. My little sister is very dear to me, and I only have hopes that Sandor Clegane's motives are true, and he brings her to her home undamaged. Though it does surprise me to know the Lannister Hound has left his master, and I worry greatly over her safety. Have no fear, if your word is kept, I will keep mine. I will detain the Hound until you see fit to make your way North, and hand him over to you freely and without grief. I only hope it brings you a piece of mind, and leads you closer to your well-deserved vengeance." Mory paused for a moment.

"Is that the whole of it?" Oberyn asked, knowing very well that it couldn't be.

"No my Prince," Mory said and continued. "I thank you as well for your show of allegiance, though you must know I have little trust of anyone these days. Your offer is most promising however, and I would not say no to Sansa's complete safety. I do not wish to turn down an offer of friendship, seeing as how I have so few. If your words are true and you can assemble the men you speak of, than how could I say no? The Lannisters would be no more, and that is what we both desire. If it is what you really wish Prince Oberyn, than the deal must be struck in person. Meet us at the Twins, though since Dorne is so very far off, I would leave the instant you receive this letter. The quicker we can discuss these matters man to man, the quicker we can move against the Lions."

"How did you receive this letter Mory? Is it possibly a forgery," Oberyn asked as he rose and draped a golden robe about his person.

"No forgery," Mory said, downing the rest of his wine. "That was Robb Stark's unbroken seal, and this letter travelled directly from Riverrun, strapped to the leg of one of my best messenger's. He killed many good horses to get here, and bribed many rich smugglers. The man was dead on his feet when he arrived," Mory told the Prince. "In fact he might have died, I haven't checked on him since I got my hands on this."

"Then I must make haste to the Twins," Oberyn said laughing.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Mory asked to know. The Prince's smile faded slightly, a hardness came into his eyes.

"I tell what needs to be told," Oberyn said. His voice had taken a dangerous tone.

"I have more that needs to be told then," Mory said, averting his gaze. "Sansa has been spotted again at some ramshackle inn, still traveling with the Hound. They killed a Lannister knight and some foot soldiers, left them right there at the inn and took off into the night. They're described as a Braavosi courtesan and her body guard, atop a big black warhorse."

"Perfect, that means she is still alive," Oberyn told him. "Go and assemble my daughters Mory, I want to say goodbye before I leave."

"You're leaving now? Tonight?" Mory asked incredulously.

"I have waited a long time for these stars to align my friend, I will not waste another moment. Soon, the King in the North will win his war for his frozen kingdom, and the men of the South will have a new man sitting upon the Iron Throne."

* * *

"People," Sansa said as they picked their way through hill country on Stranger. It was starting to get bright, the sky coming alive for the day. They had set out early, not quite being able to sleep in an area so thick with enemies. They were still not far from Tywin Lannister, and Sansa wanted to scream every time she thought about that.

Sandor pulled Stranger to a stop, getting off the horse and motioning for her to follow. They crept closer to the edge of the hill and peeked up over the top of it, spotting the people they had heard talking. It was a young boy and an older one, walking and talking loudly. The younger boy pulled them to a halt before running off to meet a third man who had been up in the hills across the way. Sansa kept her eyes on the young boy as he addressed the man, something about it was pulling her in. She couldn't figure it out, but something in the very back of her mind was screaming, screaming for her to realize.

"Let's leave them be, they wouldn't be much of a fight," Sandor told her quietly. She ignored him though, so focused on the boy and the man. The man handed something over, something too small to truly see. When they went to part ways, something happened that made her gasp. She could have sworn just then, that the man had..changed his face. She looked over to Sandor, where he lay quiet and pale, and knew he saw it too.

The little boy bounded off towards the other boy and they were on their way again. Something about the way the younger one pushed the older one, something in the laughter that rang through the hills sent Sansa sprinting forward. She barely even heard Sandor shouting after her. She couldn't feel her legs beneath her, she knew she must be mad. Tears blurred her vision, she felt weak, like she would never reach them. "Stop!" She shouted over and over again. The two boys turned and looked at her, and then took off running in an instant. Sansa tore her hood and veil off, screaming again for them to stop. The young boy looked back at her and froze, the familiar long face shocked to stillness.

All of her senses screamed, she was thrown back to the last moment they were together, and then the last thing she knew they watched together. This was everything to her, almost as good as getting home. She flew into what she thought had been the young boy, tackling her to the ground and crying out in relief.

"You're alive!" She wept out, coming to her knees and cradling her sister to her chest. "I couldn't hope anymore," She told her, voice thick with tears. She looked down to where Arya was clutching her desperately, crying and smiling.

The Stark girls were together at last.


End file.
